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FROM THE 



BE0)W Q)f IXFIKIEISI, 



^^im<jD. cs:jilQsicg>ip s^csK^issi^o 



JAMES WOODMANSEE, 

Author of " The Closing Seme:* 




(Jtincinnati: 

I860. 



-^^,3,36^ 



.^\ 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year ISfiO, 

By JAMES WOODMANSEE, 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United Stiiten, 

for the Southern Pistrlct of Ohio. 



preface. 

There are no richer treasures to be bought, 
Than living Maxims, sparkling, deathless Thought. 
Sugar Valley, A. D. 1860. 



ItMfatinn tn ^iskiit. 

I hope I've pluck'd without offensd 

From brow of sage Experience, 

These Wrinkles quaint— the laws of Fate! 

Which I, O5 Wisdom! Dedicate 

To you, who unto others do 

All that you'd have them do to you. 



^rnem. 



Poor Human Nature is a book — huge Book f 
As broad and mighty are its pages all, 
As vast, well-deep the wisdom it contains, — 
Frail Nature^ s Booh of Follies without end! 

This book is ope to every eye of man • 
But men have met me* in the walks of life 
Who have liiade Art and Science all their own^ 
And think themselves the Magi of the world. 
That scarcely read its Preface while they live! 
Sage Wisdom's babes shall grow up Folly's men, 
When, with a bat-like blindness of the soul, 
They will not see a mid-day sun that shines 
To turn their night of Nature into day, — 
Poor Human Nature's Bible will not read — 
That book of frailties by Human Nature 
Penn'd out and printed plain upon all flesh; 
A revelation, truthfully revealing 
To man, that night of all enigmas — Man! 
We must look into self to — know ourselves ; 
This one truth missed, what is there else to know 
Save God, and nothingness of all beside? 
For this, our mother Eve all Eden gave. 
And her bright crown of Immortality. 
Men that eat up this book, alone arc wise; 

O) 



8 



MOEM. 



Ay, Wisdom's self was but a childj till His 
Far-seeiDg eye and hungry soul devour'd 
Its every page, and made them all his own: 
And man ne'er was, nor will, nor can be great^ 
Tho' his name's echo talks from college halls, 
Till FINIS of this book is his A. M. 

Mankind, to know mankind, must study— Man j 

The world's profoundly wise do study deepest 

Poor Human Natur'e'^ Book of Frailties^ — * 

Encyclopedia of all science — truth! 

The fabled stone that turns all dross to gold ! 

The rod of Moses and water's gush! 

The wand that breaks the spell of all enchantments 

And turns man's minus into plus at will ! 

The Alpha, Omega of earthly books— 

The A B c of the great book of Life, 

That makes us cry Eureka, while we live! 

Ay, here the key of all our knowledge lies,— ^ 

'Tis Learning's crown and Wisdom's utmost bound; 

Boundary that human genius may not pass — 

Third heaven and home to wing of glolious mind,— 

The all on this side— mortal, beyond— God! 



Man ! study Human Nature and be wise ; 
Heaven-eyed Philosophy, more riches here 
May find, than hunting new worlds 'mong the stars; 
It teacheth self! bless'd lesson known by few. 
Must know thyself e'er thou canst govern self: — - 
This self is eel-like in its slipperiness, 



And Would not be examined by daylight; 

Man seeks foi* wisdom— all, but — know himself, — 

In science colleged, ignorant in self 

Are those that this world's tongue pronounces wise:^^ 

Great lesson this^ — to know we nothing know. 

I'his book's wide ope to every eye,— read— read I 
I'ho^ imperfection blots its every page 
And cries— 'Behold an imperfection perfect,' 
'T is Life's school book and Time's philosophy 5 
A text-book for the deeply-thinking wise ] 
'Tig Reason's rule — 'tis Science's highest school 
That maketh men true graduates indeed; 
Light of Experience, and Wisdom's all, — 
Nay, wisdom ^s not Wisdom, till patient hand 
Hath turned with care its sacred. pages o'er, 
And learnt this truth— a lesson quite divine: 
' To know himself— the all that man can know* 

That book is— Man ! revealing man to man. 

Man ! read man like a book, and 'Know THYSl:Li^,'* 

And thou hast learned the alphabet of Heaven. 



(Bijieritttce. 



Experlenc^c is a hoary-headed Sage, 

With hairy cheek and winter-bearded chin^ 

And his face maps out Old Antiquity 

Plain as the dial's shade the hours of day. 

Experience, too, hath sacred Wisdom's head* 

Attention's smallest-whisper-hearing ear. 

Persuasion's tongue of dropping eloquence. 

And Penetration's eye that sees things as they are t 

Yea, his all-seeing eye scans ghostly Past, 

Looks on thro' heart down to the soul of things, 

And e'en in Wisdom's head finds vacuum ! 

He 's one who look's 'round other ends of times, 

And sees upon both sides of things at once, — 

Beholds the years in womb of Embryo, 

And reads ' to come^ ' as it will be when born ; 

By ruined Past the living Present views, 

And eyelays ghost of blank Futurity. 

He is the mirror of Intelligence, 

Time's open book and Life's philosophy 

Sent to dispel the night of Ignorance : — 

Poor Human Nature sheds her robe of dust — 

Bevealed, and bare, and naked, to his sight ! 

His precepts all are pearls of priceless price. 

And those who scorn them are base Folly's fools — 
(10) 



I EXPERIENCE. 11 

J! 

h In knowledge all unschool'd, and in themselves, 

I And they shall learn wise lessons from his lash. 
I ! He teaeheth Folly wisdom, and unscales 

The eyes of those that would of choice be blind, — 

; Compels e'en Blindness' self to learn of him ! 

|i Tho' fool's back oft his iron rod rends sore, 

Yet every lash that falls is for his good, — 

; I A weight of knowledge gives not else obtained. 

ji He is as Mercy's self, and spares the rod 

ij Till Folly 'sidd from own true interest turns: — 

•! Within the school of sage Experience, 

; E'en Folly learns— m future to he wise. 

I ; He 's Nature's teacher, training the untrained 

II Life's devious paths to run and stumble not, — 

1 1 To steer Man's bark o'er Time's tumultuous sea 

j; To harbor safe of Happiness and Heaven. 

1 1 He wears a world of things in his long head — 

p Strength-intellectual strong as pyramid ! 

jl Each Wrinkle of his Brow, wise lesson is 

1 1 To Wisdom's self, not found in all the books ; 

j j And one by one, I pluck them off at will, 

ii To gem the crown on Wisdom's hoary brow. 



FROM THE 

BROW OF EXPERIENCE. 

WRINKLE I. 

Look into self, and seek thyself to know, — 
Knowledge enough to understand below. 

II. 
Wouldst thou learn much, learn little at a time, 
Add Perseverance, and the crown is thine. 

III. 
On with Ambition 
To gain addition 
To — Eeputation. 

IV. 

Souls, subject unto dust^ are slaves; 
Men that subdue not self ^yq knaves, — 
Must conquer^ to be good and great. 
And labor, if you'd fill your pate : — 
. Burst spirit-bonds — self- victors be, 
Soul-freedom is— heaven-liberty. 

V. 

If you to Fortune would aspire. 

Fling all your irons in the fire. 

And blow and strike, and — never tire, 

(V2) 



WRINKLES. 13 

VI. 

Sap-headed Foil J cries— ^ I could do/ 
Arm-folded Indolence—' I will do/ 
While Wisdom's actions speak— ' /cZo do,' 

WISDOM. 

WRINKLE I. 

The spirit's heavenly light 
A-shine on Mental night. 

II. 
True Wisdom's guide is Reason's rules, 
While sad Experience is the fool's. 

in. 
Sage Wisdom! mid-day's sun— Mind-life and light, 
Whose floods of glory chase dark Error's night. 

IV. 

Blest Wisdom freights life's moment ere it flies 
With Virtue's diamonds, loaded for the skies ; 
But' Foolery grins to Foolery as she goes 
To home of horrors, and to world of woes. 
FOLLY. 

WRINKLE L 

The child of Chaos and Eternal Night, 
Not born to life by brooding Spirit's light. 

n. 
From Wisdom's Eden-path base Folly flies, 
Shadows to find, and loose realities. 



14 WRINKLES. 

III. 

The fool buys wisdom at his folly's cost, 

And all he knows is learnt from what he's lost. 

XV. 

Starv'd fools oft live and die in hope 
Of cast-off gown, or petticoat. 

Y. 

Her owlet-eyes, dim at the light, 
And only gaze upon the night. 

VL 

The blindest bat on earth is she, 
Who having eyes — she loill not see, 

VII. 
She heaps God-daring mountains to the sky. 
And they shall fall upon her by and by; 
She is forever like the lightning-rod. 
Aspiring heaven to feel the bolts of God. 

FASHIOIS^ 
WRINKLE I. 

The scholar of vain Fashion's school 
Learns first to be base Folly's tool, 
Then graduates — Time'^s silly fool- 
To toe the mark of Vanity by rule. 



WRINKLES. 15 

VAISriTY. 
WRINKLE I. 

When e'er I see a gilded form, 

Or walking tiling of pride, 
I'm always sure their richest coat 

Is on their outward side. 

AMBITION. 

WRINKLE I. 
Greatness, in travail for a greater name, 
Mortal, upreaching for immortal Fame, 

II. 
The shrub, low-bending in the vale, 
Doth play securely with the gale. 
Whiles lo ! the lofty mountain oak 
Down falls — smote with 'the thunder's stroke. 

RENOWNT. 
WRINKLE I. 

Renown is, Life's own true sublime, 
Soul's foot-prints left in sands of Time. 

II. 
The sea-shell whispers on for aye 

Of worth it once possess'd ; 
So doth Ilenown perfume the name 

Of Fame's departed bless'd. 



16 WRINKLES. 

POET. 
WRINKLE I. 

In temple higli of Fame 
The Poet carves his name, 
The glory of his nation 
Till Time's desolation. 

LEARNING. 

WRINKLE I. 
To mental-night 
Gives spirit-light, — 
Lights Wisdom's lamp to show 
Mysteries in embryo. 

TONGUE. 
WRINKLE I. 
Do not our ttvo ears and one tongue proclaim, 
Hear twice, and speak but once, or come to shame ? 

II. 
Without leg-traveling goes pell-mell, 

And flies without a wing, — 
Iniquity on fire of hell, 

And deadly is its sting, 

PREJUDICE. 
WRINKLE I. 
His bat-like vision blinds at noonday light, 
But looks owl-like into the heart of night. 



WRINKLES. 17 

II. 

He shuts liis lids and bars out light, 
Like somber owl in hollow tree, 
And makes his own bat-eyes of night 
Worse than stone-blind— ^;/^^^/ will not see! 

MISER. 
WRINKLE I. 

Gaping and all athirst for gain, 

Like the pareh'd earth for summer's rain. 

II. 
To-morrow, is the day when Misers give. 
When Vice reforms, Sloth works, and — dead men live/ 

HUMAN" NATURE. 
WRINKLE I. 

A wretched Feebleness by Sin debased 
Is Human Nature, till remade by Grace. 

11. 

Life's page is dark with Imperfection's dots, 
And often black, alas ! with Error's blots. 

III. 
Man, with Perfection, is not bless'd, — 
The Rose, with every beauty dress'd. 
Is queen of Flowers — the Garden's gem, 
But, many thorns are on her stem ! 



18 WRINKLES. 

WRINKLE I. 

Perversity all o'er, 
Corruption to the core : — 
A sinner hugging Sin 
Makes all the Devils grin I 

VIRTUE. 
WRINKLE I. 

The Sun's blown out by wing of Night, 
And Moon eclips'd by Morning's light; 
But, Virtue shines divinely fair. 
Forever fix'd — the glittering Bear. 

II. 

To give her back to man, the Savior died, 
And wealth of Worlds is nothing by her side. 

III. 
The oned with Virtue, are divinely bless'd, — 
Be found of her, and God will do the rest. 

IV. 

Illume Life's path with Virtue's heavenly day, 
And you'll not stumble in the Narrow-way. 

NEW BIRTH. 
WRINKLE I. 

The soul, by New-birth woke from Carnal-night, 



Is all alive with Spirit-life — God-light! 



r 



WRINKLES. 19 

II. 

When Spirit's glories day the heart of night, 
iSoul wakes up Eden ! born to life and light. 

III. 

Not all the diamond-crowns by Monarchs wore, 

Or ail the pearl upon the ocean's shore; 

Nor all the gold of Ophir and Peru, — 

Ay, all the wealth this mundane Earth e'er knew, 

Can make me rich as that poor beggar is 

That's made Heaven's gem divine — Religion his. 

IV. 

Religion is the soul's new birth. 

And its celestial day, — 
The spirit's comforter and guide. 

Life's heavenly ecstacy. 

CHRISTIAN. 
WRINKLE I. 

His Heaven-oped eye looks upward to his God, 
And cleaves to Him tho' smitten with the rod. 

CONSCIENCE. 
WRINKLE I. 
Let Conscience keep her mirror bright 
Illumed by Virtue's heavenly light. 
That Soul may see herself within 
Reflectinc: God — unmar'd bv Sin. 



20 WRINSLES. 

TEMPERA]^CE. 
WRINKLJE I. 
Blest Temp'rance lengthens out our day, 
And makes Life's close — Time's own decay. 

II. 
Healthj Wisdom, in dry regions live, 
And drink their brandy from a sieve. 

MAN. 
VmiNKLE I. 
Man, enters into life — crying. 
Travels sorely through it — sighing, 
And ends it with a groan — dying. 

II. 
^ Frail Man,' 'tis said, 'is nothing but a worm;' 
Then — one that hath full many ways to squirm ! 

III. 
Treads Duty's path slow-crawling as the snail, 
But flies in Crime's like vessel under sail. 

lY. 
Man buys his bread with toil and tears, 
And trusts his God with doubts and fears. 

V. 

Man oft builds Babel to defy his Grod, 

Till Satan-like he falls — smote with the rod. 

VI. 
Frail Man ! O, let him crawl in dust — 
And tortoise-like, or fall he must. 



WRINKLES. 21 

VII. 

Man is afloat on Time's death-raging sea 
Where every wave he meets is — destiny. 

VIII. 

Man's hopes are dogged by doubts and fears, 
Well as his love^ by groans and tears. 

IX. 

Man leaves Life's banquet with a sigh, 
To fast with dread — Eternity. 

WOMAN. 
WRINKLE I. 

There is a magnet in fair Woman's charms 
That draw'th e'en sacred Wisdom to her arms! 
And there is loadstone too, within her smiles. 
That siren-like bewitches and beguiles. 

II. 
God-sends, and Beauty-flowerets from above, 
To be entwined with men — garlands of Love! 

III. 
The center, being, soul, and crown of all 
God's works, — perfection and the end of all. 

LOVE. 
WRINKLE I. 

Love twines vine-like around the human heart, 
Of Man's existence to become a part. 



22 WRINKLES. 

II. 

To this great maxim let the World agree, 
And — 'Love Forever,' let the adage be. 

MARRIAGE. 

WRINKLE I. 
Two hearts link'd ! one in trouble 
To make life's pleasures — double: — - 
Twain^ mingled to a perfect one 
To make a heavenly unison. 

II. 

Soul clave to soul — 

Magnet and pole ! 
III. 
Heaven-bless'd -heart-union, and the bosom's peace, — 
The Life of Love, and a perpetual feast : — 
Such hearts have found their homes, and Passions rest, 
By laws of Nature, and by Union bless'd. 

IV. 
If Happiness is found beneath the sun, 
' T is owned by twain united into one. — 
EariJt's all is founds — a Paradise below. 
And all Time's pleasures in this Eden flow. 

LIFE. 
wrinkle I. 
Life, is — soul-salt that saves 
Mortality from graves. 



WRINKLES. 23 

Life seems composed of — partings — meetings, 
And sighings — snarlings — empty greetings. 

III. 
Life's history: — Births, deaths of friends and foes, 
Man's chase around the world — after his nose ! 

IV. 
Frail Mortals live, and then — away to God, 
And they do leave behind — the path they trod. 

V. ■ 
Perplexing maze of care and pain — 
Black Error and Affliction's reign. 

VI. 
Life gives to mortals all. 
The wormwood and the gall, 
From cradle to the pall. 

VII. 

Our Life is frail. — a rose-wreath'd bower 
That often withers in an hour. 

VIII. 

We live to spin Life's brittle thread, 
Draw out — and snap, and we are — rdead ! 

IX. 

Roses of health to-day we bloom, 
To-morrow — gathered to the tomb ! 



24 WRINKLES. 

X. 

Life, is a lamp, tliat wastes its fires 
Both night and day, till it expires. 

XI. 

Life, is a race, — so fleetly it is run — 

A moment past, goal 'sreach'd and laurel 's won! 

XII. 

Our life, is like an empty bubble 
Upon Time's tempest-billow, trouble, 
To flit one moment o'er the sea 
And burst, and all 's — Eternity 

XIII. 

Dead ! and forgotten 
E'er we be rotten ! 

XIV. 

We live — we die ! and all in vain 
Unless it be — to live again, 

DEATH. 
WRINKLE I. 

Life-clock's last click ! The boundary line 
Between Eternity and Time. 

II. 
Death is the point — the close 
Of Life's cares all and woes. 
III. 
Death's hand 's congenial to our suffering clay. 
And makes it sleep without a pang for aye. 



WRINKLES. 25 

IV. 

Death's coming sets the spirit free, 
And wakes to — Immortality. 

V. 
The only wealth complete. 
Lies in our — winding-sheet. 

THE GRAVE. 
WRINKLE I. 

The Grave 's the clay-house for our clay, 
And entrance to — Eternal Day. 

II. 
The smiles of Heaven illume 
The dark night of the tomb. 

III. 
There is but one thing certain 'neath the sun — 
A Grave^ — and that, poor Mortals, fain would shun ! 

THE BODY. 

WRINKLE I. 
The Body, is Soul's prison-house of clay, — 
A shadow, flitting from the smile of day : 
Autumnal-landscapes' Eden-painted smiles, 
When icy Winter comes, are turned to wilds, — 
So, Soul's frail tenement! its Life-god fled, 
It fades — pales — falls to dust; and Man is — dead. 



26 WRINKLES. 

ETERNITY. 
WRINKLE I' 

A shoreless sea — 
Eternity ! 

II. 

So many leaves, fan not the summer-hours, 
Nor Earth's green bosom nest so many flowers, — 
G-rass-spears so many in fields, wolds and woods,- 
So many waves, ne'er danc'd Old Ocean's floods, 
Nor do so many sands shore every sea, 
As there are years^ in vast Eternity. 

MISCELLANEOUS. 
WRINKLE I. 

Life^ is — bright moments, gloomy hours; 
Earthy — shadows, shades, sunshine and showers. 

II. 
Earth's grain of wheat, and peck of tares, 
Man stores by toil, and turns to — tears. 

III. 
This Earth, is but a hollow globe 

For all to ring, and see 
What Solomon sighed out to find — 

An empty vanity. 

lY. 
Vain Cowards talk e'er Battle is begun, 
But Heroes triumph, after victories won. 



WRINKLES. 27 



A loving Saviour useth clay 
As He used it in ancient day, — 
To bless with sight — eye of the blind, 
And open Eden to mankind. 

VI. 
Our life-thoughts all, should be Grod-worshipers 

Tho' groaning 'neath Affliction's rod, 
And Being's stream flow unpolluted on 

Till mingled with its Fountain — God. 

FINAL. 
On Eyebrow of Experience 

All wrinkles now I see; 
For Folly, each wears all its frowns, 

But Wisdom ! none for thee. 

TO CRITICS. 
Now, Critic ! to all others do 
As you would have them do to you: — 
Obey the Saviour's golden rule, 
And not be adaged for a fool. 



\)t Cliristiau. 



The liappy Christian now my pencil paints; 

Let Earth behold Heaven's likness of a man 

In whom unites all earthly excellence — 

By excellence adorn'd and manly grace, — 

With every grace and virtue heavenly fair, 

By Earth and Heaven, by Angels loved, and God. 

The man that doth deserve the name of Man, 
E'en he whom his Creator made upright 
And in his nostrils breath'd immortal soul, — 
The handiwork and image of his God 
Arm'd with that panoply of Heaven — pure heart! 
His heart's the home of the bless'd Comforter, 
A sacred temple consecrate to God — 
Heart-wed to God as needle to its pole ! 
His soul's a casket rich with every gem 
That's worth the seeking this side Paradise; 
His brow wears frowns for Folly, Sin and Crime; 
His eye is single, and is full of light — 
Heaven in his eye and God in all his thoughts. 
Wisdom, from tongue of truth, as manna falls, 
And he alone hath heavenly knowledge found — 
Sage Wisdom's light — he hath with Jesus been, 
And name of Jesus is his forehead's crown. 
He's knowledge-wise above frail Learning's art, 

(31 ) 



32 THE CHRISTIAN. 

A graduate in Virtue's heavenly school, — 
Hath pull'd off Nature's rags and put on Christ, 
And Virtue's robes celestial beauty give — 
Religion's graces wears and finds them heaven! 
The child of Grace, with good Desires awake 
And Passions quell'd and conquer'd and enchain'd, 
Emptied of Carnal Mind and born again, — 
Right onward to Perfection pressing still 
Till ivill is lost — so mingled with the Lord's 
He doth the will of God — doing his own — 
Doing His will as Angels in the Heavens ! 
To see the Christian is to love the saint, 
And more we know, the lovelier he appears — 
A loveliness that loveth all mankind! 
♦He's serious, not sad; cheerful, not gay; 
Sedate, demure — an Israelite indeed. 
To spirit-light and life his all is wed : 
His every pleasure is in Righteousness, 
And his rejoicing in Perfection is, — 
Day-bright in faith and in all hope made glad. 
His looks announce to all : — ' There is a God 
And. this the copyP — Heaven is seen in him ! 
All eyes behold — Tranquillity and Peace — 
Sweet Peace within and Virtue's reign supreme, — 
A soul all Edened with the smiles of Heaven. 
He is the likeness of the Deity, — 
God sees himself in every holy man — 
Almighty-shadow, visible to men ! 



THE CHRISTIAN. 33 

In all things he begins and ends with God, 
And high-exalted holds God in full view, 
Obliterating all save only God — 
His All in All and wherewithall for aye. 
He lives so near to Son of Righteousness 
Soul drinks eternal-day from His bright beams, 
And finds in Him there's fullness evermore. 
He feels and knows he is the Lord's redeem'd ; 
Experience past and present feelings speak 
Keligion true and no delusion is — 
Soul-joy supreme and spiritual delight, 
And where she is, there is, there must be — heaven, 
And his full soul rejoices in its strength: 
The Christian leaps for joy at present bliss, 
What will he do when Heaven opes — all his own ? 
Religion plants a little heaven in breast — 
A little heaven is every holy heart ! 
His present life's a life of cheerfulness, 
And life to come — eternal joy and peace. 
Religion is his life's bright ornament. 
Gives Pleasure's plume to fleeting wing of Time — 
Perfume and luster to his memory. 
He is the happy man, Truth's tongue declares, 
Forever happy, 'cause forever good — 
With all Religion's glories in his heart, 
And hath a heaven to goto Heaven in! 
Where'er he is, is happiness and joy. 
Whither he goes are pleasures evermore — 
His life's cup runneth over with delight, — 
3 



34 THE CHRISTIAN. i! 



M 



! what a heaven there is in being good ! 
To live is pleasure and to die is gain, — - 
His dreams by night, an open'd Paradise! 

He stands with Meekness^ looking love to man, 

Cloth'd with Humility as with a robe, 

And ever found close to the cross of Christ ; 

He's Meekness self reveal'd in human form, 

Where Christ exalted is, and self abased, 

In his eyes nothing — greatness in his God's : 

Meek, humble, tho' son, heir of the Most High, — 

A spirit-meekness poor as Poverty, 

But rich in faith — ^rejoicing in the Lord, 

A Pilgrim^ journeying to Promised Land, 

One lost in mighty wilderness of Time, 

And his inquiry: '- Where ^s my Father"^ s house '^ 

WhiFst traveling on to Zion's holy hill. 

He eyes not present, but his future home, 

Blind to this world, and all awake to next. 

With less of fortune here, than treasure there. 

Content with little, satisfied with less. 

And walks with bless'd Contentment on life's day, ;| 

And richer, happier beyond compare !| 

Than kins: who calls the Universe his own. ij 

He lets the world go by, and knows it dust, : 

And thro' its emptiness, God's fullness sees— ■! 

Emptied of Earth and filFd with Heaven entire! Ij 

He hath abandon'd Earth, and idols all, \\ 

In Virtue's flowery paths to walk with Peace, || 

And find the Narrow-way leads straight to Life. i} 



THE CHRISTIAN. :^5 

Converses more with God than with mankind — 

In sweet communion with the Lord of all ! 

His mind's above corroding cares of Time, 

God, and not Mammon, dwells within his heart ; 

Dead to the world, and lives to Heaven alone — 

God in his thoughts and Earth beneaHi his feet — 

Earth 'neath his feet and God alone above ! 

His heart, the altar is of Prayer and Praise, 

And incense ever smokes therefrom to Heaven; 

His soul, like Angel's harp harmonious strung 

To hymn hosannas to the Lord of Hosts : 

Devotion's fiery chariot mounts the skies. 

While every -heart-string like a Seraph's lyre 

Psalms out to God soul-adoration pure — 

His God-fiird life devoted to his God. 

His being is one song of thankfulness, 

Thankful for winter's cold as summer's heat; 

Each moment plumes Devotion's wing for Heaven, 

Each breath he breathes one voiceless prayer to God, 

And ceaseless praise for ceaseless mercies gives; 

Nor longer wishes he to breathe on Earth 

Than soul breathes psalms of love to Lord of Life 

On pealing to the ear of Deity. 

And heavenly manna in abundance feeds 

His heaven-wed soul through wilderness of life 

Till heart shouts out 'A loving Savior neor!^ 

And finds his Paradise in being good. 

His life is one long walk with Charity — 
A charity that loveth friends and foes, 



36 THE CHRISTIAN. 

And thinks of injuries only to forgive,— 

He hath no eye to see his brother's faults, 

But he hath two, to gaze upon his good. 

At others' griefs, his heart knows how to melt, 

A friend to bless'd Humanity and Man : — 

Lives not for self, but good of all mankind, 

For Grod did make them all, and bid him love, — ■ 

Loves, that — rsome heirs of Glory he may love. 

Where Duty calls, he goes with Peace along, 

And Want and Poverty forget their wants ; 

His ear is ope to groan of Wretchedness, 

And both hands ready to relieve Distress ; 

Hears Suffering's cries, and all his answejrs bless,— 

The good Samaritan that brings Belief — 

God-bless'd, that he to man might blessings be! 

His being is a brilliant, burning zeal^ 
A burning zeal to do his Father's will: — 
A living coal from altar of the Lord. 
He's steadfast as fix'd star in heavenly orb. 
And all unwavering as the sun in heaven— 
A martyr-perseverance until death. 
Fears naught but God, and hates but Sin alone, 
And dares do right, tho' Death and Hell oppose ! 
He is the zeal that lion's den can't daunt, 
Or seven -times-heated furnace make afraid. 
The Christian's race is not for purse of gold, 
But weight of Glory, — zealous let him he. 
Not to be zealous is impiety ; 
Not to be diligent, mockery to God, — 
I To a(3t the sluggard is to damn the soul. 



l^fiE CHRISTIAN* S7 

He fights, not to lay cities desolate, 
But warfare is to take high Heaven by storm, 
Then, should he sleep as having naught to do? 
Ah ! less than zealous, speaks a coward wretch^ 
And less than ardor, traitor and— Judas ! 
His life's all ardor — ^not to please the world, 
. But meet the approbation of the Judge ; 
He's ever valiant in true Valor's cause, 
And ever conquers, tho' he wars with Hell. 
Seek for, and find the Christian at his post^ 
Forever found where heavenly manna fallsj 
In labors sweet of Piety and love:— 
Ne'er out of place, but ever in the right; 
With his oil-filled and brightly-burning lamp 
He tends to Angel-duties of the church, — - 
To duties true as sun to zodiac— 
A pillar strong in temple of his God ! 
The cross is not a burden, but his crown. 
To do his duty, is his heart's delight: 
eToy, to the Christian's soul, known Duty is, 
Her angel-finger to Devotion points,— 
With wing'd Delight to every duty flies 
Conversing with the Savior face to face ! 
In heavenly places sips of Jesus' love 
And Edens life in service of his Grod — ' 
A joy divine beyond the halls of Mirth. 
Truth's mirror bright reflecting much of Heaven, 
Where Christ and bicss'd Beligion are reveal'd — 
An earthly constellation bright Avith God, , 

Salvation's heir array'd by llightcousness, 



38 THE CHRISTIAN. 

Elect and precious— chosen of the Lord. 

That man lives best, and most to purpose lives 
Who makes Eeligion's graces all his own ; 
That man to purpose lives who lives to die, 
And he is rich who makes sweet Heaven his own. 
I love the man that bows and honors God — 
The holy Christian loved by Savior's love, 
My friend— the first on Memory's sacred desk, 
For he's the 'Perfect man — the man of Uz! 
Alive to Virtue, 'wake to every good,— 
Doth all the good he can to friend and foe, 
And gems life's crown with heavenly Virtues all, 
And loves his God 'bove all things else beside :— 
Good-deeds, do track his path of life as thick 
And bright, as Milky -way the firmament. 
He useth time, to get well out of time, 
And lives to die, and dies to live again; 
He in his Bible lives— the light of Earth! 
His meat and drink to do his Father's will. 
Life's study is to weed life of its tares. 
Have all pure wheat fit for the garner's use; 
His only care, to plant stars in his crown, 
And store his treasures safe in house of God: — 
He stores Heaven-treasure as a miser gold. 
And gems each minute as it flies with Praise,— 
Crowds in each moment what is worth all worlds 
And lays up wealth enough in time's short day 
To life his immortality with Heaven. 
His school is Virtue, and preceptor Christ — 



^HE CHRISTIAN. 39 

Right onward to Perfection in His stepSj 
In all the gospel armor clad complete, 
With good o'ercoming Evil evermore, — 
Fulfilling law — 'gainst such there is no law ! 
He walks on Earth, yet lives above the world ; 
There is much less of Earth in him than Heaven, — 
So much of Heaven he seems not made of dust, 
Divorc'd from Earth and wholly wed to God- 
As near like God as flesh and blood can be! 
He's lost to self, and God his All in All, 
Quite dead to Sin, and lives to God alone — - 
So near like Christ that God is visible ! 
Life, one continued scene of Holiness — 
God-light, day-gleaming to the world around I 
His being, is a chart of Piety, 
His life, a written book for all to read, — 
Heaven's copy fair of what a Man should be : 
The Christian's pattern and the child of Heaven^ 
God-loving and Sin-daring man of Christ 
Whose soul is one bright heaven of Deity 
Wherein the Holy Spirit loves to dwell. 

Could I but half his greatness sing, you'd say : 

''Tis not Truth's harp, but Flattery's that sings.' 

He is the man for Earth and also Heaven, 

He lives the praise and* glory of both worlds, — 

Uniting all of Earthly excellence 

With heavenly Virtues all — met in one man. 

A man for Angels to admire and love ; 

The praise, delight and wonder of his kind; 



40 THE CHRISTIAN. 

Earth's ornament and glory of the world; 

And he alone hath title to the skies — 

Perfection walking up to Paradise ! 

The only man that answers life's great end ; 

The only man that to full stature grows, 

Where image of the Deity is seen — 

A Samson 'mong Philistines of Earth! 

He, 'lone hath the eternal Wisdom found, — 

The wisest that All-seeing Eye beholds — 

Earth's all that Deity beholds and loves. 

To him. Religion, heavenly knowledge gives 

And opes the fountain of eternal Day, — 

Perfection by Eeligion perfected ! 

Philosophy, thro' telescope views stars; 

His eye sees clear where optic-tubes grow dim — • 

Faith-eyed beholds a Paradise beyond : 

How high Religion can exalt a man ! 

Celestial heights above his fellow men 

Tho' they are kings, and he a beggar is, — 

Exalteth e*en to Heaven, a — Lazarus ! 

Above the world while walking on the Earth — 

In God, whiles he is towering 'mong mankind—^ 

A son of God, joint heir with Jesus Christ! 

'Yond titles great — renown beyond Renown, 

Divinely beautiful with Holiness — 

Of such are white-robed saints'that shout 'round God. 

Of God's own handi-work, the end and crown, 

The noblest work that Deity hath wrought — 

A likeness true of his eternal Sire. 

God's Bride, with whom the Savior is in love — 



THE CHRISTIAN. 4l 

All that keeps Earth from sinking down to Hell ; 

Would Sin-cursed Earth without him live an hour? 

Nay, it had wreck'd six thousand years ago. 

The chosen Christian doth unite the smile 

Of great Omnipotence to Being's soul, 

Else, a chaotic emptiness and hell, — - 

Love that unites Creation to its God — » 

A wonder 'preaching near a miracle ! 

For the Elect's sake all things do 6xist:— - 

For him, sweet Mercy wears her smile of heaven; 

For him, was many-mansion'd Heaven prepar'd; 

Life's tree planted ; Eternal rest allowed ; 

Bright Glory offer'd free to sons of men; 

God's Blessedness made ready to receive. 

And Juda's Lion oped the seal'd-up book 

In presence-chamber of the great I AM. 

He is his country's friend, his own and Heaven's} 

His friends are Virtue's, and his foes are God's, 

All Virtues reign in Eden of his soul — 

An Eden-lily blossoming below 

To beautify Earth's barrenness and curse! 

A rose immortal budding upon Earth 

To bloom for aye in garden of his God! 

A tree of Life in vineyard of the Lord 

So prun'd and water'd by the Husbandman 

That it produces fruit an hundred fold 

To fill the storehouse of Omnipotence. 

He keeps his coffin in his eye thro' life, 
And makes mm Death familiar as a friend. 



42 THE CHEtSTIAN. 

Life witli Religion crown'd, uncrownetli Deaths 

His death-bed scene^ speaks out Religion's worth,— 

Death-bei) ! A lioly place, — -how near it stands 

To Grod! 'Tis on the very verge of Heaven! 

Pause solemn 'twixt Eternity and Time 

Where Vanity is Vanity no more. 

It is the school of Wisdom to the wise. 

Where Death's white face looks from its shroud on Life, 

Declaring loud: — ' You soon shall be as I,'— 

Death-knell that makes creation stand aghast 1 

The bed, where Life is born— Eternal Life; 

The golden autumn, crowning Life's whole year; 

The last kind inn, on our short journey home, 

And soul and body's 'Farewell,' until Morn. 

He's full of days, and satisfied with life- 
Willing to live, and willing, too, to die, 
And back to God smile his pure soul away, — 
To live is Christ, to die — eternal gain. 
His work is finish'd when his Savior calls, 
And like Elijah waits the car of fire 
To mount in flaming chariot to God 
And blaze in splendor like a mid-day sun. 
Life's well-spent day crowns dying couch with joys 
As thick as stars in galaxy of heaven. 
And not a stain his spirit-robe defiles — > 
More fit for Heaven than for a sinful world. 

He is a traveler thro' the Shades of Death 
To God's bright city — e'en his Father's house ! 



THE CHRISTIAN. 43 

To brink of Jordan, Christian now arrives 

A-lean upon the staff of his Belovedj 

And shouts to see the Passover at hand — ^ 

E'er ready to depart and be with God. 

He lived to die — now dies to live again, — - 

To lay that throbbing mass of anguish by 

And put the deathless robe of Glory on, — ^ 

Lose dust, to find bright Immortality, — 

Let Adam fall, and nev/ man speed to God ! 

To Father's bosom not afraid to go, — - 

Why should he fear to meet Death's dart, and fall? 

Where is his home? Heaven. And his portion who? 

God — -his eternal crown, immense reward ! 

Tears, groans of Earth, for joys immortal give! 

Well may he shout, firm stand on brink of death 

And Victory claim e'en in the battle's heat. 

Death's door unlock'd, he wakes in Jesus' arms, 

Soul plumes her wings for Incorruption's home 

To hold companionship with sainted ones — 

To all that's lovely, think of what you will ; 

O'er thrones and kingdoms to be crown'd of God, 

An heir of Pleavcn and Immortality. 

There is no Hell 'twixt Faithfulness and God ; 

The Vale and Shade of Death, is but a shade 

Where Spirit finds eternal Liberty; 

Life-stop, where soul awaits to be refresh'd 

E'er she beholds her Savior face to face : 

The Mount Immortal towers above Death Vale, 

And light of life extends to smile of Crod. 

A holy place the Christian's death-bed is — 



44 TBt:K CH^is^iAN. 

The softest down man ever slept upon ! 
Where Jesus smiles, can there be aught of ill? 
Stern Death's approach is Griory drawing near. 
His friends all gather round the dying man 
To see the exit of a sinless soul, — 
With Nature's suffering clay to sympathize, 
Whiles spirit gives its earth to Earth again 
To fill the law, and satisfy the tomb. 
Serene he smiles at Death's insidious dart. 
Frail Nature's prison-house to desolate, — 
To make the Heaven-born captive, Spirit all, 
And dying couch, the — Paradise of Death. 

On Nebo's mount he views bright Canaan near, 
And soul communes with Grod: — 'I'm almost home ! 
A few steps more, I'm at my Father's house,-— 
Reveal thy glories, Heaven ! and shorten time. 
I would awake from Time's deep sleep, Lord ! 
And rise from tent of death to be with Thee : 
I'm waiting to depart to be with Christ 
My day in night of death and strength in dust ! 
Upon night-side of Jordan now I stand, — 
Divide the waters, Lord ! and let me pass.' 

The Christian ceas'd, and deep in spirit groan'd, — 
Soul, struggles with its dust to be a god ! 
The life-stream curdles and the death-dews start,— 
Each pain shall give him weight of blessedness ! 
Frail Nature's bark's nigh wreck'd in Gulf of Death, 
But Spirit plumes for haven of Repose, 



THE CHRISTIAN. 45 

And seems an Angel partly on the wing ! 

Life's pains are past, and agonies are o'er : — 

But — stay ! He yet revives and talks with God ! 

The peace of Heaven is Eden'd on his brow, 

And smiles celestial play upon his lip; 

From his bliss-brighten'd eyes of ecstacy 

His full-plumed spirit looks out light of day 

On bright pavilions of oped Paradise, 

And shouts aloud these words with his last breath : 

' Grod iloodeth down a day of heavenly light ! 
His smiles play all around the sepulchre- 
Immortal joys do blossom o'er the tomb! 
Behind Death's door stands Immortality 
With smile that days the grave with light of Heaven ! 
Celestial light divines the gates of Death, — 
Lo! Death is but the messenger of Peace-— 
Could meet a thousand Deaths without one fear ! 
The Vale of Gloom, no darkness hath — no night, 
And valley's end is throng'd with Seraphim ! 
All fills with God, and everything is Heaven — 
The thought of Heaven is summer to the soul ! 
The Angels come ! Archangels ! Hierarchs ! 
My Savior comes with glory jflam'd' around — 
Tlie King of Glory in his beauty comes 
To crown my brow with corona of stars ! 
My soul is gladness, for the Lord is near, — 
The Passover is coming — Allelujah! 
Wake — spirit! put thy crown of glory on; 
Strike hands with those that wait to welcome thee, — • • 



46 THE CHRISTIAN. 

Awake ! and wave tliy palm of Yictory : — 

Grod says — ^ To Father s hosom come^ my son /' 

Is that sweet Heaven, I see? Yea — glory! glo — ' 

He told to Jesus what remairi'd untold 

When pass'd from labor to his great reward, 

And left a smile upon his tranquil corpse, — 

He smiled at Death, for Grod did smile on him. 

His happy spirit pass'd from earthly things 

As sweet as Beauty's bloom from cheek of flowers, 

Or Zephyrus, from incense-breathing spring. 

So near to G-od, he step'd from this world to 

The next, without confusion, or alarm, — 

So ripe for Heaven, his clay felt not Death's dart! 

He conquer'd Death, not King of Terrors him — 

Shouted Death-victor in the jaws of Death, 

And died death-great — triumphant over Hell! 

What floods of glory blaze from setting suns — 

The golden Day's divinity expiring! 

Thus, Christian died. My end be like to his. 

0, Immortality ! It dries the tear 

That falls upon the urn of those we love, 

And 'lumes with Glory's light the Yale of Death; 

It smooths the deep death-steep, and lets us down 

Softly to tomb, as downy feather's fall. 

Oblivion's foe is Immortality — 

Eternal triumph o'er oblivion ! 

The soul's life-time beyond the sleep of death, — 

The !2;od in man that makes man kin to God: 



THE CHRISTIAN. 47 

Death, is the stripping off this garment earth, 

And all the rest is — Immortality. 

His mortal slept, when his immortal woke 

And flam'd away from Earth to be all Heaven: — 

I can not think of him without heart-leaps 

To strike glad-hands with him in Paradise. 

0, Earth ! thou hast lost much in losing him, 

But cease my harp — Heaven hath an Angel more. 



E JHemnrium. 



ELEGY: 

ON THE DEATH OF 
MY sister's most SWEET AND LOVELY LITTLE BABE), 

RACHEL ANN JONES. 

Born, October 15th, A. D. 1838. Died, August 23d, A. D. 1839. Aged 10 
montlis and 8 days* 

TO THE MOTHER. 

Sister Julia : — You desired me to write a few lines 
on the Death of your sweet Eachel Ann. This 
sheet contains them. But I fear, they sink far below 
your feelings on the subject. Ah! who can feel a 
Mother's Love, save her alone? Who mourn the 
Child in Death like her who bore it? None, my Ju- 
lia — none. On her heart alone true Sorrow sits, and 
all her thoughts — the true sublime. Imagination, on 
her swiftest wing, can never reach a Mother's piteous 
moans, or sighs sublime, for her loved Babe in death; 
nor, at the fountain head of Sorrow, drain one tear, so 
pure, bright, beautiful as hers. Hope not, Sister, then, 
to find in all this Elegy, one thought worthy of your 
own. I wrote — wrote as I felt, and felt as I wrote. 
Then pardon, Julia, if I've wrote amiss, and let a Sister's 
love, smile out its heaven of charity on him 
Who loves you with a Brother's love, 

WOODMANSEE. 
(51) 



6legi|. 



Is there on Earth one sullen soul 

In Folly's school so harden'd grown, 

That, in his heart — his blacken'd heart! 

No sorrow finds to mourn the dead? 

Not feel sweet Pity's soft control ! 

Nor drop the sympathetic tear ! 

That heart is dead — from mercy lock'd, 

From light and life and joy and Heaven, — 

All — all must weep, for — Kachel's dead — 

That beauteous Babe with silver locks ! 

Mourn, 0, my soul ! and thou bless'd Harp, 

My heart's delight in Sorrow's storm, 

0, mourn ! in doleful sorrow mourn 

The Young and Beautiful in death ! 

Ah ! Rachel Ann, thy hour how short — 
How very short thy little hour ! 
How soon did Evening onward rush 
To tread on Morning's sluggish heels — 
Life-floweret nip'd e'er 'twas a-bloom ! 
Thou Eden-rose ! thy form divine 
Had too much Heaven to dwell on Earth 
Where Sin so thickly sows her thorns 
To hedge fair Virtue's narrow path 
That leads to H^^ppiness and Heaven. 
All, all was done to stay thy flight. 
And keep thee with us here below; 

(55) 



56 IN MEMORIAM. 

But Aqua-vita was as nought, — 
Fell Deatli had thrown his cruel dart 
Far, far beyond the Healing Art. 

Thy little lamp of life went out, 
But 0, how bless'd ! Heaven's lamp of Love 
With rays divine did guide thee safe 
Through valley of the shade of Death, 
And Glory own'd one Seraph more ! 

To father fond and mother dear, 
Thou wast the sweetest ray of hope — 
The fairest, purest, brightest, best. 
That ever smil'd with full of joy 
On Life's rich coronet of love ! — 
Their may-day smile of happiness ! 
Their life's day-star of loveliness ! 
Their every rose-lip'd joy on Earth — 
Soul-diamond and heart-jewel — thou! 
Their Eden-blessedness and joy 
That smil'd bright innocence as Heaven! 
But smil'd not long — alas, for Life ! 
It came like lightning's speedy wing, 
And then departed as it came! 
'Twas over soon! that smile of Love 
On perfect Beauty's lip a charm, 
Was too divinely bright for Earth, 
And thou^ — celestial lily fair 
From the empyrean bower of bliss. 
On Earth thou bloomest but to fade, 



IN MEMORIAM. 57 

Then, in the Garden fair of Grod 
Flourish and bloom — eternally. 

The fairest lily soonest fades, 

And ripest beauty quickest dies ; 

The kindest, fondest, best beloved, 

The soonest run Life's little race — 

For Grlory ripe e'er in their bloom ! 

Sweet Angel ! thou did'st stoop to Earth 

To weep o'er poor Mortality,- — 

On unbent pinion then return 

To be the smile of Seraph's joy 

And make bright Heaven more beautiful ! 

Bless'd Babe ! when Gabriel's trump shall call 

All Nations to Jehovah's throne. 

How many Kings will wish their lives 

Had been as short and good as thine ! 

Then, Mother! take thy last cold-kiss 
And soul-relieving Fare-thee-well, — 
This Mercy grants all merciful; 
0, be content! she was thine own 
When fair she smil'd upon thy knee. 
Now she is Heaven's ! with Angels smiles 
As fair, as soft, as pure as Love 
'Round her Almighty Father's throne : — 
Each heart did bless her while on earth, 
To bless her now — is Heaven's delight. 

But lo ! the mournful Mother weeps ! 

Ah! each bright tear, each groan and sight 



58 IN MEMORIAM. 

Dotli sweetly eclio in high Heaven — 
* Adieus,' to her dear Rachel's shade ! 
For thee, sweet Babe ! a heart-heaved sigh 
From out my melting bosom comes, — 
I weep — I weep, to see that face — 
The smile of heaven, lie cold in death! 
On my sad heart, soft Pity sits 
With mournings like the dove, — 
But nought avails — she will not wake 
To bless her mourning Mother's arms ! 
Not streaming floods of Sorrow's soul 
Can bring her back thro' all of pearl, — 
Grief's shriek or scream of Agony, 
Or thy deep-dismal wail — Despair! 
The monster Death in cold embrace 
Kelentless holds his prisoner still ! 

0, cruel Death ! why didst thou come, 
And steal sweet Rachel Ann away? 
Why nip the flower within its bud? 
Why on the fair Defenseless prey? 
Thou coward Death ! on Infant blood 
Slake not thy desperate thirst again ! 
Go heave the rocks from Andes' brow 
And eat the flames from Etna's top, — . 
War with Whirlwind — with Lightning join 
And Thunder close in dreadful fray : — 
'Gainst these, thy bony arm employ, 
But stain no more thy giant might 
By laying the defenseless low. 



IN MEMORIAM. 59 



How is Life fallen from her tower ! 
The Beautiful gone down to death — 
Virtue a tenant of the tomb ! 
The Angels ever take their own. 
Come, iron brow of scornful Pride, 
And heart of adamantine Hate, — 
In social sorrow lend one tear 
To Infant Innocence in death. 



HER EPITAPH. 

From gentle sleep she woke 
Life's cup to drain : — 

^ Gall to the hrim.^ it spoke, 
''And deadly pain r 

From lily hand it fell. 

She meekly sighed — ^ Farewell^ 

^ Life'^s cup is pain and hell^ — 
Vll sleep again,^ 



Cljaugljtfit 



AT MY BROTHER'S FUNERAL. 



0, weep not for the happy Christian dead! 

Lament not that his day of mourning's fled; 

Sin, dust, disease, no longer chain his soul,— 

A victor over Death at Glory's goal ! 

Why should I weep my Brother's liberty^ 

His triumph over Death — his victory ? 

Death conquer'd, is his triumph, not his foe — 

Gives worlds of pleasures for this one of wo. 

Am I in tears because my Brother's free — 

Free from all Earthly ills that compass me ? 

Do I lament that he laments no more? 

That sore Affliction's living reign is o'er? 

That all things are his own that soul can love — 

Eternal-crown'd with Paradise above? 

Doth his rejoicing ope my weeping eyes? 

Why weep that Angels hail him in the skies? 

Why weep that he hath gain'd Eternal-shore — 

Eternal-lifed with pleasures evermore? 

What, weep ! that he is number'd with the Bless'd^- 

Retir'd from toil, and gone to endless rest,— 

Hath chang'd his night-of-Earth for Heaven-of-day — 

'T is all fell discord in a Seraph's lay ! 

(61) 



62 IN MEMORIAM. 

! why these tears of anguish and remorse 
When Wisdom, Virtue cry — ^Rejoice — rejoice T 

Let Grief and Anguish pour their floods of tears 
O'er Sin and Folly's hope-forsaken biers; 
Ay,' Mourning Comfortless low-bend her o'er 
Crime-living^ or Sins-dead^ and ever pour 
The gall of Spirit as her red eyes roll 
Heart-agony death-mingled with the soul ! 
True Lamentation's groans aloud declare : 
^ Tears for the lost abandon'd to Despair; 
Tear-showers of spirit rain from Sorrow's eye 
O'er Hope's abandon'd — black Iniquity; 
For living Crime, heart-tears of blood are due, 
But — happy Christian! not one' tear for you.' 

Tears for a Saint, that his affliction's o'er ! 
Lament that Heaven hath gain'd an Angel more ! 
What! sunk to night of grief, that he is free. 
Thrice happy in a bless'd Eternity! 
Heart full of sorrow that his sorrow 's o'er! 
Weep dolorous because ho weeps no more! 
Tears for the Saint! Lamenting comfortless 
That he 's with God — rejoicing with the Bless'd! 
Hah — TEARS ! and not ecstatic joys of soul 
That he hath gone where ceaseless raptures roll ! 
What — WEEP ! that he 's from sin, death, hell, all-free— 
Tear-drops on rose of Immortality! 
What — MOURN ! while Holy Writ — (Heaven's trum- 
pet voice!) 
Thunders for Christians all : — ''Eejoice ! Rejoice !" 



Cjje Cxutifiiinu. 

SUPPOSED TO BE WRITTEN BY AN EYE-WITI^ESS. 



PART I. 

When flaxen locks curled o'er my youthful brow, 
And I sat playing with my infant joys, 
My Mother caught me in her hasty arms 
And mingled with a — Crowd ! 

Joy sat sublim'd 
In every look, and Victory on each lip ; 
Ah, smiles ! ah, joys! how soon to fkde and die! 
And dying — leave the sting of death behind! 

'T is victory weak that mocks its foe's last groan; 
'T is fiendish joy that laughs at dying sighs — 
Infernal smile that smiles on Agony. 
Accurs'd the heart that doth not sorrow feel 
When soul bids clay farewell with parting pang; 
Accurs'd the hand that would not turn aside 
The dart of death from penitential tears; 
Accurs'd the eye that fondly loves to see 
The tooth of fell Disease in sunder gnaw 

(63) 



64 IN MEMORIAM. 

The soul and body of its enemy; 

Accurs'd the God-defying wretch that mocks 

While breaking heart strings fluttering murmur 

'death!'— 
That monster curs'd, who loves, or joys to see 
Fell Death astride the pillow of his foe 
With pangs that break frail Nature utterly. 

That Crowd's great joy was fiendishness like this ! 

Joy sat sublim'd and climax'd on her soul, 

And smiles of triumph blossom'd on her cheek : — 

That Crowd's heart-love was cruelty and blood, 

The sweetest music to her dragon-ear, 

And bath'd her soul in new delight and bliss ! 

The scene on which her eye long loved to dwell ! 

A field from which her hand reap'd richest fruits! 

Garden replete with prospect beautiful 

Of fruits and flowers of every kind and hue 

That towering thought could think, or mind conceive, 

And standard full of every luxury ! 

Ah, Crowd most damn'd, at war with God and man! 
Ne'er look'd on Sorrow's sob, or Pity's tear! 
Ne'er sigh'd with Sympathy ! nor wept with Woe ! 
Ne'er smiled with Joy, or walk'd with Love to bliss, 
Nor perch'd on flowery wing of Hope to soar 
Above her home of perfect wretchedness ! 
I But loved to feast where blood and slaughter roll'd 



I 



While death-pangs rent the cords that held in life, 
And Carnage's hand enrichen'd all the plains! 



EST MEMORIAM. 65 

PART II. 

Now, busy Hate, with fiery eyes fierce stalt'd 

And gave to Pride's liigli arm his thirsty spear, 

Whiles foamy Wrath rose high and stir'd the fires 

That fiercely burned in hot Revenge's breast ; 

And Vengeance dread whet sharp his desperate lance, 

And gave it barb'd to fell Destruction's hand. 

Hot cruelty shrieked out to Violence, 

And look'd fierce daggers down on Mercy's brow: — 

Defiance, Boasting, (as Heaven's thunderbolts 

Aloud above the whirlwind's dreadful roar — • 

Death-horrors giving to the Elements !) 

So they sped forth outrageous to destroy, 

Defying Earth and Heaven — demoniacs ! 

Till Death — their woful captain ! huge uprose 

Apollyon-fierce — outraging Devils damn'd 

And shook a dart of fury indignation-fired. 

With earthquake -bellow, roaring — " Crucify !" 

All, firmly grasp'd their hot-avenging spears 

And swords that sighed for blood, with demon-claws, 

And swept forth tempests raging to devour. 

Till Murder and Revenge just hot from Hell, 

NaiFd Jesus to the cross of Agony, 

And crucifi'd Emanuel — God with us! 

Whose cross, became the only key, to ope 

For Man, the pearly gates of Paradise. 

And I — was there ! among that horrid crowd I 
0, woful thought ! dark story of my life ! 
That hour be torn from Time's great calendar; 



66 IN MEMORIAM. 

That time, from rolling years be blotted out ; 
That hateful scene, from Nature's book erased, — 
! be the day burn'd up in endless Hell ! 
That Crowd, sink in Oblivion's grave forgot! 
Let awful Horror gnaw upon her there. 
And desperate Woe forever howl her deeds! 

Come — Pity! drop thy gall on Calvary, 
For there the deed was done that shook the world — 
0, wash that blood from her polluted top ! 
Mourn — 0, my soul ! in doleful sorrow mourn — 
Ah ! bleed afresh my heart ! and ever bleed, 
For woe is me — 0, wretched and undone ! 
Flow out my tears — in quick succession flow 
And drown mine eyes in deep, exhaustless streams, 
For they, alas ! they saw my Savior die ! 
Mine ears ! forget to hear, — strike deaf, 0, Death ! 
They heard Him groan: — 'Redemption is com- 
plete ! ' 
He hung aloft — the subject of all sport ! 
He bled upon a Cross twixt heaven and earth, — 
The cross of Death by Murder planted firm — 
Huge wooden cross from Aspen's silent grove, 
But since renown'd for melancholy song.- 
He hung with Prayer, and bless'd His enemies ! 
Y\^hose tongue was Truth, whose words redeeming love; 
Whose actions grace, whose looks tranquillity; 
Whose smiles were heaven, whose joy was bliss indeed • 
Whose dying groans made dark the sun himself. 
And bade great Nature weep in loud convulse. 



IN MEMORIAM. 67 

He cried, ^ I thirst ! " They gave him gall to drink; 

' I THIRST FOR Heayen ! ' He groaned in agony ; 

Then, with that dragon-crowd, my Mother — laughed ! 

And I too — 0, forgive me Jesus ! laughed 

Tho' little was my lip ! He groan' d ! the sun 

In sorrow wept, and weeping hid his face ; 

But Man, with Devils grin'd, and mock'd and howl'd 

Whiles Pain and Anguish rent his heart in twain ! 

Ah, with Revile reviled, with Scoff they scoff' d — 

With Mockery and Eternal Mockery mock'd ! 

Sin's demon-claw, steep'd in Damnation's brink 

Fell Envy, Scorn and Man, in friendship shook 

With fiendish leer, and with such horrid grin 

As show'd their snakish tongues and sulphur eyes 

As flames of fire from their own native Hell. 

He bow'd his head ; Day tumbled from his throne 

In deep and dead eclipse ! whiles Midnight drear 

On Darkness' ebon-wings vail'd earth as Hell, 

And Peace and Quiet in their graves found Rest. 

Now, deep Affliction sat upon His brow, 
Whose deadly tusk gnaw'd greedily at heart, 
Whiles Crucifixion's rod of anguish rent 
Life's golden bands that soul to body bound, 
Till faint Humanity with Wonder cried : — 
" Eli ! Eli ! lama — Sabachthani ? " 
In loudest note! Then bowed His sacred head, 
And bowing bade His spirit — God, farewell. 
And Light of all things darken'd into death. 
The hellish mob, with triumph howl'd aloud ; 



68 IN MEM0RIA3I. 

Hell heard, and shrieked thro' caverns bottomless : — 
I hear it still ! That death-pang rent my heart. 
I heard His death-cry and their mockeries, 
And then I wept. — tears fell on Jesus' feet. — 
My tears mix'd, mingled with my Savior's blood ! 
The blood that washeth every sin away. 
' Why iceejps my child ? ' surprised, my mother cried, 
* ^ay^ do not weep, — for shame ! 'Tis only a 
Poor Nazarene, calVd Jestis Christ the Lard!' 



(E|iitflp!)0. 



ON METHUSELAH. 

Nine hundred sixty-nine, I lived ; 

Life was a breath, and pass'd : — 
I did but grow and bloom and ripe 

To fade and fall at last. 

EPITAPH. 

When Death unloek'd Life's door to me, 
I woke up — Immortality. 

ON A CHRISTIAN. 

Not 'neath the sod : — 
Gone home to God. 

ON A LITTLE GIRL. 

The Innocent and Beautiful, 

My Ida May the dutiful, 

Turn'd Seraph at the age of Seven, — 

"Of such, the Kingdom is of Heaven." 

EPITAPH. 

Retir'd from House of C4ay, 
And gone to — Endless Day. 

(69) 



70 IN MEMORIAM. 

ON A CHILD. 

A child at rest, 
By Jesus bless'd. 

EPITAPH. 

Life's dream is o'er — the spirit free, 
And I am — Immortality. 

ON A BABE. 

! happy Babe sleep on 
From Sin and Sorrow free, — 
In loving Savior's arms 
Thy rest is heavenly. 

EPITAPH. 

A sinner I, redeemed by Grace, — 
With Peace and Hope my ashes rest, 

And I behold my Savior's face 
In happy Mansions of the Blest. 

ON MAN. 

I'm all that tells Man ever lived ; 

I'm all that speaks — he 's not : — 
Was born, and died, and buried here, 

While all else are — forojot. 



^ntm0 d CJiUjinDK 



WRITTEN AT THIRTEEN YEARS OF AGE. 

Awake my Harp ! nor longer sleep when fair 
Columbia calls — bright star of Liberty ! 
! bind her brow with bright poetic wreath, 
Or shame Eternal haunt thee like a ghost 
Whiles Time doth ride his years unto their graves, 
And iron tongue with proclamation loud 
Thunders to Earth my country's Epitaph : 
^'Columbia had no Poet and she died.'' 

HARP. 

I'm yet too young! The ripening breath of Age 
Hath not yet breath'd autumnal stores on me; 
But when sublim'd with Nature's melody, 
I'll wake to show proud England's boasting Muse 
This truth indeed: — " 'Tis not Columbia's land 
Where Genius sickens and where Fancy dies^ 

(73) 



MISCELLANEOUS. 



ari)ilbl)O0b. 



WRITTEN ALSO AT THIRTEEN. 



0! I am now a jolly-romping boy, 

In clean, white slips I dress all nice and coy ; 

And little tiny shoes all over red 

Just for to on my mammy's carpet tread : — 

! how I do jump and how I do play 

Till all the light hours fly fleeting away ! 

Then down on the hearth I tumble apace 

And sweetly lay sleeping right jam on my face! 

-The cricket's chirping song close by my head. 

Says plainly thus : " This child hath gone to bed." 

My Mother sings: " Sleep on — sleep on my boy, 

Thy father's hope, thy mother's constant joy." 

Then, straight by gentle Dreams am I caress'd, 

In all the fairy forms of Spirits dress'd. 



Stormg ttleattjer. 

The flowers are dying — 

Summer's loves ! 
The bright hours flying — 
Cooing doves ! 
Now Nature pours her tears in showers. 
Or crowns with snow the barren bowers ; 
The nightingale no longer sings. 
No music thro' the woodlands rings ; 



MISCELLANEOUS. 75 

All sweetest birds with merry jay 

On painted pinions flee away, 

And leave Man here to breast the storm, 

Or build a fire to keep him warm, — 

To warm his toes and shins together, 

While fell without, raves — Stormy Weather. 



fcOinter's Near. 

Chill Winds are sighing 
'•Winter^ s Near ^^ 

While Autumn 's flying 
With a tear! 
And in the bird-forsaken bowers 
Romp not the rosy-footed Hours ; 
The garden fades, the woodland moans. 
And in her rock shrill Echo groans ; 
Faint whisperings run along the vales, 
Low-breathing to the sickly dales : — 
' Now, crown of glory falls from Autumn's head, 
And Nature's loveliness lies withering — dead.' 



tointjcr toeatljer. 

The year was flying 

With a groan. 
And Zephyr sighing 

With a moan. 



76 MISCELLANEOUS. 

When North-winds bellow'd out replying:- 
* Frail Nature's loveliness is dying! 
The valley's glow, the landscape's smiles 
Are solitude in spirit wilds ; 
The owlet's hoot and jackal's yell 
And panther's cry fill all the dell ; 
And snow and blow and frost and freeze, 
Make bare the fields and strip the trees, 
While cold and chill and storm together 
Howl out to man of Winter Weather.' 



tointer dLomcQ. 

[a bombast.] 

Dread Winter comes — beware ! 

Beware the foe ! - 

Or Nature's glory where ? 
Lain low — lain low. 
He comes — he comes with power and might 
The cheek of Loveliness to blight; 
With storms and snows and frosts and rains 
To bind our mother Earth in chains ! 
Fell Winter comes for war and fight 
Creation's beauty all to blight ! 
Old Gray-beard comes ! Let man beware ! 

To freeze our toes, — 
Tyrant ! compel — our shoes to wear^ 
And wipe our nose ! 



MISCELLANEOUS. 77 

tointer's ^cxc. 



Autumn said dying, — 

' Winter 's near ' ; 
North came replying, — 
^Winter '5 Here ! 
The Landscape's lovely smile to nip, 
And blight the rose on Beauty's lip ; 
With frost and snow and wind and chill, 
To freeze the river, run and rill. 
To make the South, the frozen Pole, 
Where howling Storms and Tempests roll — 
Old Winter 's Here!' 



^fltm0 nf tt ICtttet late. 



a:i)e iHilk iWailr. 

When summer's sun had sunk to rest, 

And evening brown'd the dale, 
A lovely, rose-complected miss, 

Came tripping o'er the vale; 
Without a cap, or bonnet on — 

Her hair played with the gale. 
And on a little half-bent arm 

Dangled her — milking pail. 

Her white foot was the snowflake's fall, 

While on to barnyard speeding 
With childish jollity and glee. 

For milk and for feeding : — 
^'Hay^ hay for old Muly,'' she said, 

And dumb the tall haystack. 
When poor, hungry Muly ball'd out 

At lots and gobs i' the rack. 

Now, pail in hand, the maiden said, 

"To milkin I will go," 

As three-legged stool adown she sat, 

And sung: — ''So, Muly, so; 

(78) 



MISCELLANEOUS. 79 

So, so, take supper now on hay, 

Then sleep till morning go. 
And I'll awake thee at daylight — 

But, so ! So, Muly — so ! 

So, Mule ! You ugly thing you, so I 

Sich work I'll not endure, — 
You switch your fly-brush in my eyes 

I'll lick thee jist so sure ! 
Then, so Mule — so ! so now and hise^ 

You mean, old sow you, hise ! 
As on her stool adown she sat 

To milk her in a trice. 

Two-handed miss with might and main 

Made fast the nectar flow, 
Nor thought aloud of ought save this 

Queer song — ''so, Muly, so!' 
Though Muly stood still as a post, 

Her jolly song was — " So," — 
Loved ditty, dear to milk-maids all 

Her own — 50, Muly, so! 

But Muly now impatient grew — 

At nothing 't all I vow. 
And little miss as hasty said, 

"The witches ails the cow! 
Now Mule, you ugly huzzy, so — 

Why will you act up thus ? 
When every time I come to milk 

Thou kickest up a fuss. 



80 MISCELLANEOUS. 

You dirty, clumsy heifer you — 

An old cow and so wild! 
Hah ! serpent of a critter you, 

The witches have you spiled ! 
Now, so ! you cross old varmint, so,— ■ 

You'd better so and hise!" 
And rosy maiden's three-legged stool 

Did give her beatings thrice. 

"So, Muly — so," — as miss's hand 

Gave Muly's hip to "hise," 
"Now stand a little bit or more, 

I'll milk thee in a trice : — 
So, Muly — so, — so,* slutty, so, — " 

When lo ! stalk still she stood ! 
That pretty maiden's pail was filFd 

While Muly — chewed her cud. 



^o Eobert JJoUck. 

See Scotia's Bard — "in humble dwelling born," 
To bless, refine and elevate mankind ! 
Bard of the heart and Poet of the soul, 
Prince of the lyre and Muse of Holy Song, 
Beloved on Earth but more beloved in Heaven, 
Honor'd by men but honor'd more of God ; 
Religion's bless'd, fair Virtue's most approv'd — 
Perfection's model and her brightest gem. 
Bless'd Bard! by God's own hand thy harp was tun'd 



MISCELLANEOUS. 81 

On Time, on Life, on Death, Redeeming Love, 
To charm with music sweet the Poet's ear 
And feed with heavenly fruit the good-man's soul : — 
Hail, holy Bard ! by all the Muses bless'd 
Poesy'^s chef'd^cRuvre et ne plus ultra. 



®0 'So[\n CaltJin. 

John Calvin, cease for Non Elect to pray, 

Ah ! canst thou turn black night to fairest day ? 

Their dreadful doom's inevitably seal'd. 

And from their sulphur homes no power can shield. 

John Calvin, cease for the Elect to pray, — 

Well might the stupid ass to Luna bray; 

Would'st surer make what God hath made most sure ? 

Or, purer cleanse Perfection's heart — most pure ? 

All mankind are Elect or Non^ you say, — 

Then tell me this, good John : — ^for whom you 'prayV 

Thou canst not tell! Ho ! then, sir, squalk out thus: 

'•All prayer is vain and most superfiuous!^ 

Then, Calvin, why doth Holy Scripture say : — 

' In everything give thanks and ceaseless pray?' 



A Mother smiles, enchantment on her Babes ! 
Her bright, maternal smiles do brighten like 
A day around the little, cherub-group, 
Down-showering summer on the Eden-scene 



82 MISCELLANEOUS. 

Made sunny witli affection of her heart. 
BabeSj round about, like rosy Cupids romp, 
Her ornaments of admiration, love, 
Her precious treasures beggaring Earth to buy- 
The soft, the simple, tender little things ! 
Their plays, and artless prattle, wind around 
The Mother's heart, demanding all her care 
To train them up for Happiness and Heaven. 
Full-feast and constant watch by night and day- 
Sweet, spirit-mischiefs innocent as Loves! 



CI I) i lb I) 00 b. 

In gentle Childhood's sunny hours 
No cares disturb'd my mind ; 

Of racking pains knew I of none 
Or sorrows could I find. 

My heart was pure, my lips were clean, 

From sin and folly free ; 
I had not tasted of the fruit 

Of the Forbidden-tree. 

I sat and taik'd the infant tongue 
In health and joy and glee ; 

And smiling sat like gentle May 
All on my Mother's knee. 



MISCELLANEOUS. 83 

Life's bud now opening to a flower 

Gave wilder joys to view; 
And from that tender Mother's neck 

My little arms withdrew. 

I sped to Sugar Valley's bower, 

Watch'd pretty Birds build nests, 
Then sit upon the branches high 

And sweetly singing — rest. 

And there, and then, my Harp awoke 

And its first sonnet sung. 
Which oft in Manhood's riper hour 

With Angel-accents rung. 



America is but an infant yet, 
Time's youngest born, but all a Jupiter 
Arm'd with the lightnings and the thunderbolts! 
And she shall yet cast off her cradle-clothes, 
From swaddling-bands leap — glori/ of the world 
With hand wide ope and heart benevolent, 
And save her mother from a pauper's grave ! 
Smile-fac'd as Day, she looks to ends of Earth 
With warm, heart-shaking hand to welcome all 
Mankind, and crown their brows with — Liberty. 

Hail, home of Equal-rights and Privileges — 
Thou smiling Paradise of Plenty, hail ! 
6 



84 MISCELLANEOUS. 

Land of my birtli, my manhood and my pride, 
Where I have lived and loved and am beloved, 
And Patriot-fathers sleep in christian-graves. 
How art thou wed and oned with my fond heart! 
But thy great name offends the Tyrant's ear, 
And smites his soul with Envy and alarm — 
Ay, let him groan ! thrones totter to a fall, 
The morning breaks and light now days the world. 
And he shall down, to gore Earth's heart no more,— 
Crowns, thrones and scepters shall her footstool be, 
For Man awakes to freedom — liberty. 

The land where Genius is Archangel-winged 

And Arts and Sciences are Wisdom-taught ; 

Where Liberty hath holiday the year 

And Equity and Eight with Mildness rule 

In court of Justice and Equality : — 

The land of Plenty and Prosperity 

And Eden-bower of Piety and Peace 

Where bless'd Religion looks unvail'd on God, 

And Freedom smiles out heaven — imparadised ! 

America! the eye of all the Earth! 

Lo ! every clime hath found a home in thee — 

All Seasons romp around thee all the year ! 

Thy mighty bound'ry is a hemisphere, 

And measure of thy bosom — half a World ! 

Thy territory is a continent, 

A proud immensity — world in thyself! 

It takes the sun, in his celestial fields 

Twelve hours, to day thee with the light of heaven :- 



MISCELLANEOUS. 85 

One half of Eartli ! where other half may fly 
Oppression's scourge and Tyranny's and "Want's, 
And all mankind live as God made them — FREE, 
And dare be men — the image of their God. 

ON THE DECLARATION. 

Her Declaration^ is bless'd Freedom's chart 
Baptised in Revolution's bloody sea, 
And wrote with hearts of our heroic sires : — 
'Tis Liberty's own sword omnipotent. 
And a death-thrust to Tyranny for aye, — 
Columbia's boast and Earth's chief ornament. 



Retiring Modesty! she'll walk one mile 

Around, to keep from treading on a worm! 

She is the handmaid of bless'd Innocence, 

Demnire and brightly beautiful as Truth-^ 

All infant tenderness as soft as Love. 

K shield of beauty is bless'd Modesty, 

Her gentle brow has never learnt to frown, — 

The first to listen, and the last to speak ! 

Blush-cheek'd she looks as heaven array'd in smiles, 

Retires abash'd, her likeness to behold 

In pictur'd mirror gazing on her charms, — 

Abash'd the angel of her cheek to see — 

Those star-bright eyes that look a living soul ! 

Then shrinks in self all tremblingly alone, 

And vails herself — a blushing Modesty, 



86 MISCELLANEOUS. 



©en tie Cotie, 

Soft is Love's hand, and silken too the chain 
That kniteth hearts — to one heart mingles twain! 
One honey-moon is smiling all the year, 
Nor winter's frown, nor scolding tempest near; 
A meek, retiring gentleness is Love, 
And innocent as summer-cooing dove ; 
As happy as bless'd Happiness can be — 
Earth's joy that sips bliss of Eternity! 
Affection^ is Love's food; neglect he flies, 
Lives in a smile, and by a frown he dies. 
True lovers, are as gentle to their loves — 
Gentle and tender as the cooing doves ; 
All infidels that 's found cold-hearted, sour, 
Love's self expels from Hymen's rosy bower. 



BoliUqug on i\\z ©aUoiMS, 

Now, joys of life— sports, loves, bliss — stand aside: 
The Trap-door roareth out aloud — ^MaT^e haste !^ 
Groan on infernal Door, thy voice wakes soul. 
My hope's despair, and thou my heaven's hell— 
Trap-door! Death's door! Hell's gaping jaws on 

Earth, 
Time's end — Grave's brink — road to Eternity! 
Pit-fall of Crime— thou fleetest road to Wrath, 
I'll on thee stand ! Nay, sink fast from my feet, — 



MSCELLANiJOtJS. 



87 



Bend, tremble, crack, break, fall, and let me to 
Oblivion down, and feast eternal fires ! 
Then, Hell, groan on, and all ye Devils, bowl ! 
Ye Damn'd — we meet ! snatch me away^ ye Fiends, 
To your sulphurous home — infernal flames ! 
Fire-hills ! we'll ride sublime profoundest Hell I 



Our rosy youth will soon be gone, 

Our Life itself shall fly ; 
Each passing minute weaves our shroud, 

And Time himself must die. 

Departing hours now dig our grave, 
Past moments ope our tomb j 

Day tumbles into night at eve. 

And reads to man: — 'Doom — doom»^ 

But Virtue, smiles serene the while 
As on to Heaven she hies,— 

Shouts o'er the grave and death and hell, 
'Victory!' while she dies. 



Let Man — awake ! seek Virtue now, 

Religion's call attend, — • 
Be ''born again''' — make Heaven thy home, 

And God himself thy friend. 



88 



MISCELLANEOUS. 



Sarcasm. 

His piercing features, stab, like poniard's thrust, 
And make the blood stagnate all round the heart, 
Or boil for vengeance while we gaze on them. 
That cutting look shaves like a razor's edge — 
Lightning in looks and thunder in his leer ! 
Heart-bane, wide purples on that lip of scorn 
And shows it canker'd, — wormwood 's in his smile, 
And every breath he breathes — bitter as gall. 
His language cuts like clashing falchion's stroke. 
And words, all bite, — there 's venom on his tongue I 
A tongue as sharp as dagger's gleaming point — 
Invenom'd tongue that poisons as it kills ! 
He hath the look that Satan's visage wears 
Whiles crowing o'er a soul just damn'd, perchance. 



tiJonber. 

What's Wonder? Unrevealed Novelty 
Unvailing self to eye of Ignorance. 
The dam of Wonder is, white-eyed Surprise,- 
And his wretch'd father — -soul-blind Nescience,- 
No wonder he is neither horse nor jack ! 
With wild-bewildered eye and hair erect. 
On Expectation's broad'ning wing — aghast, 
Ahush he stands, all eye," all ear, all heart, — 
A tongueless statue drinking in his breath ! 
He ever makes things greater than they are. 



MISCELLANEOUS. 89 

Gives form to objects Nature never framed. 

Ay, life to Naughts that Fancy's self hath no 

Conception of, — yea, magnifies to base 

Monstrosities, Chimeras all invisible, 

And peoples with more Anthropophagi 

The vast grown heaven or hell of his surprise, 

Than Night's wide spread concave can number stars! 

At every whirl of his white-rolling orbs, 

Old Chaos gives a new Creation birth. 

To which, Grod's six-days' -work has nothing like, — 

Monsters -of -monsters hideous and dire, 

Such as ne'er denn'd in Misconception's womb, 

Or, cloak'd them with Eternal shades — -Hell-shadows! 



£ife. 

On tall tree trembling 

Sickly leaf ! 
Frail Man reminding 

Life is brief 
Life's brightest path and sunniest hours 
Are tangling wilds and fading flowers ; 
A Frailty on tomb reclining — 
Both Life and Death in arms entwining. 
Like flitting bubble in the stream, — 
The painted romance of a Dream! 
A meteor's glare, or flying feather, 
One shoots, one bursts, and — gone forever! 
A rainbow on the stormy spray. 
Or moonbeam at the smile of day, — i 



90 MISCELLANEOUS. 

How like the breath we blow on steel, 
Or thrill of joy young lovers feel 
While kissing bashful maidens meek, 
Or, blushes burning on their cheek! 
Or as the sunset's crimson light, 
A moment more, and — all is night! 



Silence. 

On Silence' stilly lip there lives a soul; 

Her look talks thoughts as loudly as a tongue — 

The soul of Silence that speaks audibly ! 

She is the daughter of Eternity, 

And born of Chaos and Nonentity. 

She dwells in inward chambers of Repose, 

And sits enthron'd with Quietude and Dreams ; 

She rests pavilion'd in the halls of Luz, 

And sleeps in home of Secrecy and Death. 

Dread Silence seems — pulse of Existence still'd, 
A pause in Nature — breath of Being seal'd; 
A death -profound in Time's 'wide solitude — 
Lone Solitude upon the face of things ! 
Or, stamp of Breathlessness on lip of Life, — 
A Life-stop quite beyond the vale of Dreams, 
And tongue-rest voiceless as a sepulcher. 
With noiseless foot, on back of Calm she treads- 
Mum Quiet holding back the winged Winds ! 
Or, floats on bosom of Vacuity 



MISCELLANEOTTS. 91 

As soft a-s spirits glide on midnight wings, 

Nor dreams that Sound hath ever voic'd its name 

In vast Creation's ever listful ear. 

She, tongueless stands, nor dares to think aloud, 

A breathless statue and a speechless shade, — 

A fearful Stillness villainously still — 

ChaMd-soulj dumb-mouth^ d, yet promising to speak ! 



@;i)e painter. 

His rainbow-pencil was celestial-hued, 

And flesh and blood grew 'neath his magic-touch. 

His canvas, started into life, and look'd 

Creation, glowing with the smile of God! 

His Pictures mirror'd Nature's every Grace, — 

Ay, there young Beauty rose with snow-bank breast, 

And summer-cheek where living roses play'd, — 

Where spirit-talking eyes, words-speaking mouth 

And lips bloom'd into life, and smil'd out — soul! 



flatterjj. 

Lip-good and hollow-hearted Flattery 
Feeds ail her victims with an empty spoon, 
And thro' a bubble and a vapor-breath, 
She oft robs Samson's brow of manly locks 
Till Greatness' self is weak as other men — 
Smooth-tongu'd hypocrisy, oil'd to deceive ! 



92 MISCELLANEOUS. 

x\y, a sly-creeping, baneful viper she 

Hid in rose-bower to ruin and destroy : 

A seeming Friendship licking Yanity 

From head to foot to swallow her alive 

Without the slightest danger to herself! 

She is a counterfeit Hypocrisy 

That pays off Vanity as with good coin. 

She hath a charmer's tongue and viper's heart; 

Her serpent'tongue is double— falsehood all 

Gloss'd with deceit and honey'd o'er with lies, 

And guiles and charms of Mischief are her smiles; 

Her words are varnish'd over by Deceit, — 

Her speech deceives, and promises betray. 

She oft bows low with hollow-hearted look, 

And cloaks with white rob'd Truth, her blackest lies; 

Ay, Flattery's words all polish'd scabbards are 

In which fell Ruin's daggers are conceal'd. 



@ iH a r a . 

WRITTEN IN HER ALBUM. 

A century hence, dear girl, and where 

Will this loved Album be? 
This small memento of respect, 

And Mary — thou? and — me? 
A Century ! who shall see that day 

As once they did of old. 
That came and pass'd and it was not 

Like story that is told? 



MISCELLANEOUS. 93 

An hundred years ! how long it seemSji 

And yet how quickly fled ! 
But fewer days than months^ perhaps, 

We're numbered with the — dead! 
Then let us up, and all alive 

To Wisdom's wisest rules, 
That Demons may not call us 'theirs/ 

Nor Death : — ' Time's silly fools.'' 

Ah 1 sleep not now — be all awake, 

Our life exists by flying; 
Of but one moment, Time is made — 

That moment is a-dying ! 
! let us on thro' Virtue's paths 

To bless'd Keligion wed, 
And number'd be among the saints 

When number'd with the dead. 



dontentnuent. 



Behold Contentment ! calm reposing on 

The happiness of her own heavenly thoughts. 

While soul flows out to God — all adoration 

For peace of mind, contented Poverty ! 

Contentment 's rich, in knowing not her wants; 

She is Life's v^ealth, and Wisdom's blest estate, 

And she can make the poor man's little, great, — 

So sanctify the crum of Poverty 

That board of Luxury, compar'd, is want, 



-r. i 



94 MiSCELLANEOtrS. 

And wealth of kings, a gilded wretchedness,—' 

A servant bearing every burden — she ! 

Her life, is one long cbristmas holiday; — 

On acorns can she find a royal feast, 

And from the crystal brook, pure nectar sip. 

She bares her bosom to Misfortune's dart. 

Stands face to face with fell Adversity, 

And looks unshaken on Calamity : 

Her eye can gaze on Heaven, and her calm soul 

Have no desire, or wish to speed — homeward ! 



|)atience. 

World-moving and God-wrestling Patience sits 

\yith Happiness, Peace, Safety and Content 

In Eden-bower of bless'd Tranquillity 

And hath a heaven to go to Heaven in ! 

Her arm is short, foot slow, and dumb of tongue, 

But, loss of empires unto her are dust. 

The diamond coronets of kings, but trash — 

World-riches dross, and all Earth-glories vain. 

Her bark of faith is anchor' d to its God — 

A living hope without a doubt or fear, 

And built upon by Immortality. 

Her soul superior to Misfortune's storms, 

She triumphs over Difficulty's self — 

Unmoved by thunders of Adversity. 

She knows of truth, Life hath no Hadean-depth 

To which her kind Protector can not reach, 



MISCELLANEOUS. 95 

And bring ker up to light and life again, 
And crown her with Prosperity and Heaven. 



®l)e Moti)cx. 



She is Man^s happiness and his life's crown,— 

God's six-days' labor was complete in Eve. 

Around a Mother, joys, affections, loves 

Revolve, as stars around a central sun. 

Her children, live in light of her sweet smiles 

And laugh to flowers while meeting her caress, — - 

The Empress of a little world of Babes ! 

She wreaths to curls their soft and careless hair^ 

Plays with their tiny fingers with delight, 

Then rocks their spirits into fairy dreams 

On soft, maternal breasts that swell full-orb 'd — 

The nectar-founts from which they drink out life \ 

On bosom's softness cradled and asleep 

To dream of peace, love, happiness and Heaven t 



Motl)cx anh ^abc. 

Her happy looks speak out aloud to all :— 

^ I jostle all the world upon my hnee!^^ 

Both Joy and Hope are sunbeams in her eyes 

Whiles on her lap with smile of innocence 

Her heart-joy sleeps with look as bright as flowei&,- 

Roso, lily-cheek'd, where Health and Beauty glow 



96 MISCELLANEOUS, 

With light and life out twinkling all the stars! 
Her world of care soft-cradled in her arms — 
Young Innocence and infant Loveliness 
To peaceful slumber lull'd and dreams of Heaven 
By Mother's heart love -beating for her Babe ! 
A love -joy and a feast by day and night — 
Love's own fair semblance in the human form, 
And Jacob's ladder to its Mother's heart! 



IJersetJerance 

Bless'd Perseverance prospers evermore; 

He doth remove each stumbling-block from path— 

To every barrier the wreck and grave ! 

Ay, scythe-like Perseverance mows down all, 

And wedge-lika cleaves the knotty oak in twain. 

His moveless spirit 's fixt as throne of Doom, — 

His soul unshaken anchor'd to its God. 

Strong Pers-everance works with God-like power, — 

His mighty arm 's almost omnipotent, 

And his Life -wrestle is — as with the Fates, 

His mountain-path, onward to Glory leads; 

Now, DijBGLCulty's Hill he climbs to top, — 

Fame's temple storms, and — takes it hy hig might! 

He 's one whom iron-arm 'd Adversity 

Can not subvert, or Danger's self subdue: — 

Eight onward goes until Resistance's self 

Crrows w^arj of the strife, and yields him — HeaveA. 



MISCELLANEOUS. 97 

life's Jfourneg. 

Now, orient Morn threw wide the gate of Day, 

To smile on Earth with rosy-footed May; 

Rose-tinctur'd Light sip'd nectar from the flowers, 

Whiles lovers young sat smiling in their bowers ; 

Sweet Nature glow'd the loveliness of day — 

Awoke from couch of sleep the wise to pray. 

No sick'ning vapors, fogs, or clouds above — 

Creation breath'd of melody and love ! 

But soon, a deadly mist, and gloom came o'er. 

And blackness, with the angry thunder's roar: — 

Tremendous night to follow morn so sweet ! 

How oft Life's Journey smiles — smiles thus to cheat ! 

It hath its sunny Morn, its glorious Noon, 

Black Night — all fickle as the waning Moon. 

When all the ambient air breathes favoring gales, 

The fleetly flying ship in safety sails ; 

But when dread surges leap, and oceans roar, 

And tempest thunders and the torrents pour, 

O! how the frail ship cracks! How wild she's toss'd 

Drove onward by Despair to Ruin — lost! 

^T is likewise thus on Time's tumultuous sea, 

When Life^ like a pert bubble glides with glee, 

While Breezes romp and gentlo Zephyrs play 

And gives to Mortals one short holiday ! 

But, when storm-clouds of sore Aflliction roll, 

And Trouble's thunders smite to prove the soul — - 

Alas! soon poor Mortality shall fall 

To dust — all dust, and shrouded by a pall I 



98 MISCELLANEOUS. 

toaol)ington- 

The first in wisdom, and the first in might, 

Crown'd one of Peace, and the strong arm of fight: — 

The live-long day he braved the cannon's roar, 

"While all his armor stream'd with human gore ; 

From his resounding shield and clashing sword. 

The mighty din of dreadful battle roar'd ; 

His hero-leveling sword met armor flashing, 

As death-stroke following death-stroke fell crashing, 

And gave to Liberty's invading foes 

As many bloody graves as deadly blows. 

Our gurdian, he, the States around confess'd, 

And his paternal care, whole nations bless'd. 

His death, pall'd Hope, and made a world his bier, 

Freedom a grave, and Liberty a tear. 



§onox. 

God's nobleman, and greater than a King ! 

On brow, sits spotless Reputation's crown 

Of priceless worth beyond a monarch's own, — 

He frowns contempt down on all littleness. 

His tongue is. truth, and knows not how to lie, — 

Speaks what he thinks, and thinks whate'er he speaks,- 

Deceit and guile are not upon his lips. 

His noble mind conceives no evil thoughts. 

And heart, approves of nothing but the right-— 

The soul of Honor anchor'd to its God ! 



MISCELLANEOUS. 



99 



Higli Honor, image of bright Virtue is. 

And shines sun-like — his glories blazing round, 

Whiles Envy, in his presence stands appall'd, 

And hangs her head condemn'd — tongueless and dumb ! 

No tongue can speak his name, or sum his worth 

And not be Eloquence itself and Praise. 



SDisfjonor. 

Dishonor is — death-blight on character, 

A Time-dug grave, down-swallowing alive, — 

Good-name with wounds of Degradation dying. 

He 's little in great things, and mean in little, — 

His meddling fingers all require a watch ! 

His crimes, have paled his cheek, and snak'd his eye 

Till his hang-head-guilt-look speaks — ' Villainy : ' 

A Cairl-mark'd wretch that hangman's rope shall hang ! 

So lost to Virtue and all nobleness 

That he hath now, no honor to preserve, — 

To Infamy flies, down long paths of Shame ! 

Tho' every step be crime, he onward sweeps 

By Folly led, and Degradation hurl'd 

With ruin down to Pandemonium. 



a rut I). 

Truth, is, the speech of all the sainted ones, 

The voice of Justice, Equity and Eight — 

Soul-purity drop'd from an Angel's tongae ! 

The tonL>;ue and language of the Heaven of Heavens, 

'7 



100 MISCELLANEOUS. 

And God himself is the Eternal Truth, 
Truth's potency dispels the mists of Doubt — 
Sincerity unvail'd to eye of day! 
Its light, drives Error from the minds of men 
And hurls Deceit and Falsehood down to Hell — 
A potent sword to fight the Devil with ! 
Where Truth is not, Apollyon hath his home. 



She hath Hell's look — is a Beelzebub ! 
The father of all Lies is her dread sire ; 
She leap'd from his sin-brain — all legion-tongued ! 
Her dragon shoulders grow three Gorgon heads 
All devil-featur'd, and they look out — Deaths: 
From her Crime-brazen brows of impudence 
Fire-eyes glare wild — malignity of fiends^ — 
Fiend-grins on lips and Satan in her heart! 
Her breath, infects the atmosphere round Earth, 
And Upas-like spreads desolation out. 
She roars out libels on the name of God, 
And drives man to insanity and Hell : — 
She is Hell-born, a Hydra fang'd and claw'd, 
Death of Religion and the life of Vice. 



Spring, 

Now", bride-like Spring adorn'd with flowers 
Walks forth with Love to wed the Bowers; 
Her birds, give solitude a voice, 
And speaking woodlands all rejoice; 



MISCELLANEOUS. 101 



Young Zepliyr sliakes from music-wing 
Her balmy odors on the spring; 
To Breeze's whistle day and night 
Loved Flora frolics with delight, — 
Her rosy smile gives birth to flowers, 
And fruit and fragrance to the bowers. 
Birth-day of Beauty, Song and Cheer — 
Millennial glory of the year! 
Where Health and Loveliness e'er meet 
To bid the Edened Earth — 'Be sweet!' 



" The tongue is a world of iniquity." — Holt Writ. 

Can any mytholographer spy out, 

With his owl-eyes that roll through heart of night, 

And guess this myth: What is the tongue of man? 

This Gordian knot of God's own handiwork — 

Phenomenon in creation's mighty book, — 

The wondrous wonder of this mystery solve, 

And ope the riddle to the light of day? 

'Tis dark as embryo in Chaos' womb : 

I '11 speak to Tongue, mayhap she'll blab it out. 

Thou dark enigma, never understood, 

Though gabbling ever on in endless rounds, 

Tom Thumb 's thy stature, strength, Goliath's might! 

O'er Falsehood's purgatorial world of lies 

Thou reign'st a very Satan in thy way, 



102 MISCELLANEOUS 

O'erruling Adam's race, and proudly eminent, — 

Earth-wooing siren charming to devour! 

Thou judgment-blinding, will-perverting imp, 

Soul-winning, heart-defiling wickedness, 

How eloquent thy gab when all 's deceit ! 

But blind, stiff, lame and halt, thou stumblest on 

O'er Truth's strong tale of facts, and ever hobbling ! 

0, root of evil ! Yarnisher of lies ! 

Firebrand of Envy — Falsehood's battle-ax. 

Why lying ever down as invalid 

To tell thy lies till Doomsday calls for thee ? 

Behold ! the body's members, save thyself, 

(Thou mouth -jail'd criminal !) are all erect! 

Art sore diseased, or wearied nigh to death 

With running 'yond the antelope in might ! 

If so, why flying still as foot of Health? 

If sick, 'tis not for want of exercise, 

For I am witness to thy ceaseless gab. 

Disease should give to feebleness repose. 

Thou art the race-horse of Iniquity, 

Whereon Hell's legion host of Lies let loose. 

Chase through that Satan-seat — the human heart 

x\nd bring God's wrath upon the sons of men. 

Deceit, in Falsehood's endless web of lies, 
Thou art unbridled, though God bridled thee ! 
Art coffin-shaped, and rooted to thy grave — 
The grave God dug for thee in jaws of man! 
'T is well thou art confined by triple wall. 
Of fiesh, enameled bone and crashing jaws ; 



MISCELLANEOUS. 103 

Thy liberty would be creation's blot — 
Babel-confusion and earth's bedlam, thou ! 
Small lump of dirt, but a huge misery ! 
Pollution-bundle " set on fire of belli •' 
Iniquity's own poking-stick red hot ! 
Of all ungovernables the most ungoverned — 
Of every monster the most monstrous, base. 
And yet, of all we love, the best beloved ! 
Man's greatest friend, his worst of enemies, — 
Man's play-doll, that oft bruises his own pate ! 
The joy of soul, the hate of every heart — 
True beauty, grafted on Deformity! 

When our heart-dial is by Virtue set. 

Then will the Tongue— that pendulum of soul. 

Count truth o'er by the hour — wag on aright! 

Woe's own elixir and the joy of Grief 1 

Full noon to Melancholy's cloudy day — 

An every-day balm to Life's lonely heart! 

An Aqua Vita for the ills of Time ! 

Full fount of happiness to Adam's race, 

And Friendship's presence with the sons of men,— 

Love-wand uniting heart of human kind ! 

Thou ready porter at the door of speech — 
Exhibitor of heart, soul, mind and man — 
Whole band of music to the World's great ear. 
Thou art as gassy as an air balloon ! 
Wildfire, that sets whole neigborhoods by ears — 
The fire that toucJics off earth's battle-gun, 



104 MISCELLANEOUS. 

To spread Destruction out from pole to pole, 
And widen Desolation's path to hell ! 
The greatest evil, and the greatest good, — 
Of good, the letter^ and of bad, the worst! 
If wrong thou wag'st. Iniquity 's thy name ; 
If right, the greatest blessing to mankind. 

Can Webster's great nomenclature speak out 
Ten-million-tongued in its omnipotence, 
And with Truth's wand portray to mental eye 
That contradiction called '^the human Tongiie^^^ 
So that the renegade where'er she strays. 
May be brought back according to the laws, 
And to her prison-cell confined for aye ? 
Words can't describe the indescribable. 
Nor language speak what 's inexpressible : — 
Phenomenon and myth! 'bove all that 's dark. 
Enigma darkest, I leave thee i' the dark! 
For, could my Orphic lyre sing endless rounds, 
It ne'er could sing thee well as thine own — blab! 



j^ixtttilitg. 

Have mankind aught of which they should be proud? 
Have they one thing that truly is their own? 
Their very dust, the grave proclaims, "^5 mme." 
While man 's a tenant on his Father's smile. 
Stayer in life-leased hovel of the dust, 
liis proper place and most becoming robe 



MISCELLANEOUS. 105 

Is deep HUMILITY — tlie only garb 

That can hide poverty so squalid, vile, 

The only dress God gives and angels wear — 

Purest on earth, and brightest in the skies : 

Man should be humble with his earthly lot 

When all he hath, or can have is but dust. 

Sure, pride and folly were not made for man; 

They dug hell's pit and clothe a Lucifer, 

But, fit man's back as a vast giant's robe 

Loose-dangling on a Lilliputian. 

True Greatness is forever meek and wise. 

As Folly is both arrogant and proud ; 

Devoid of grace and sense, how hard is it 

For a poor worm to be still a poor worm, 

When nursed upon the lap of luxury, 

x\.nd fann'd by wing of bright prosperity! 

Wine of Prosperity makes giddy fools ; 

For man 's a very frailty itself — ■ 

A feebleness on-tottering for a fall. 

And plung'd will be to Pandemonium, 

'Less stretch'd-out hand, strong to deliver, saves. 

Yale of humility 's at Jesus' feet — 
The valley low of humbleness and love. 
And peaceful vale of holiness and heaven 
By stiff-neck'd Pride rejected and despised ! 
That deep-sunk vale of Christian blessedness 
Deep dov/n to dust of self-abasement sunk, 
Where soul hath all her goings out to God — 
A soul-prostration groaning up from dust ! 



106 MISCELLANEOUS. 

Here we may empty self out of proud self^ — 
Come out of self, and true salvation find, — 
To nothing sink, and find ourselves with. Grod ! 
Self, emptied of itself, grows full of God, 
And humbleness is heaven'd at Jesus' feet. 
If we lay here, the Lord will take us up' — 
Humility and meekness Grod exalts ; 
When in this vale of Christian holiness 
Contrition prays, God hears him in high heaven,- 
He stoops to hear Humility's deep groan, 
And hearing grants — forgiving every sin. 
Man's place is dust of deep Humility ; 
It is Mortality's defense through life, 
Her tower of strength against a world of foes ; 
It is a shield 'gainst earth and hell combin'd; 
Sackcloth and ashes move the throne of God, 
And save great Nineveh from Sodom's fate ! 
Not Satan's power can harm Humility, 
Or her white robe of innocence defile. 

Look at God's Son, and see humility — 

Cloth'd with humility as with a robe ! 

Christ was in stable born. Should I wish more? 

A God-like virtue is Humility — 

Humility's deep vale of holiness 

By stifF-neck'd Pride rejected and despis'd, — 

I almost worship thee — simplicity ! 

God is in love with this celestial grace, — 

His chosen ones as little children are ; 

They 'd be earth's scoff to be salvation's heirsj 



MISCELLANEOUS. 107 

Mean in men's eyes, but greatness in their God's ; 
The poor in spirit he hath chosen his. 
The meek and humble man alone is great ; 
He lives above the things of time and sense, 
Converses face to face, and walks with God, — 
The man that Heaven delights to honor — he. 
Man's highest throne is at his Savior's feet, 
And only way to Heaven is on his knees. 



}p0alm 0f £ife. 

On Time's life-wrecking sea we ride — 

Secure from every ill ! 
God bids each threat'ning billow rise, 

Speaks, and the storm is still. 

Tho' sickness, sorrow, pain and death, 

Disturb our pillow'd rest. 
They can not rob soul of its heaven. 

With God's own presence bless'd. 

The sun may stay his car of fire. 
And day at midnight wake ; 

But God will not forget his bride — 
His own elect forsake. 

Then trust in Him, ye faithful few, 
And let vain doubtings cease, — 

His pleasure works thy endless rest, 
And presence-felt, thy peace. 



108 MISCELLANEOUS. 

Help me, 0, Lord ! in tliee to trust, 

And on tliy grace depend, — 
My portion be and sure defense. 

My teacher, guide, and friend. 

Make me a temple of my God, — 

Wed me to Virtue's ways; 
Be all my thoughts God-worshipers, 

And every breath — thy praise. 

QoxxVb toorti). 

Omnipotence spake Being into life. 

But Trinity in council — made the soul^ — 

That ornament of Heaven — light of the world 

And God in man, a Savior died to save ! 

'T would bankrupt earth, to pay the price thereof; 

'T would undo man to barter it away, — 

Man's greatest wisdom is his soul to save. 

For soul shall live when Heaven shall be no more! 

A Babylon in wreck 's far less a wreck 

Than the eternal wreck of one poor soul — 

Of priceless price beyond the tongue to tell. 

Bright Eve, with all her radiant wealth of worlds 

Is not so glorious to All-seeing Eye 

As Soul with Heaven's bright gem Religion in 't. 

Weigh worlds, — Night with her coronet of stars, — 

Weigh Being with all Heaven in her arms. 

Then weigh the soul^ and it outweighs them all ! 

Worlds shall grow old, and back to nothing turn; 



MISCELLANEOUS. 109 

The twinkling stars dim- eyed shall pass away, — 

The heavens and earth all into atoms riven, 

But soul shall laugh Destruction's frown to scorn, 

And o'er the ocean-flame of burning death. 

Trim its immortal pinions forth to God, 

And live with Him, when Death himself is dead, — 

The all that is immortal this side Heaven. 

Canst tell the worth of the immortal soul? 

It silenced Heaven half hour to answer it, 

And answer came when Jesus gave himself! 

Soul to redeem, the Lord of Glory died — 

The Savior died to save the soul from death! 

'T is precious, then, as precious blood of Christ, — 

It made Heaven poor to buy it back to life. 

Image of God, redeemed by God's beloved! 

Sum up the worth of every drop of blood 

The Savior shed, and that we'll call souVs cost, 

And paid by Him who only knows its worth. 

Then let the bright Immortal be our all ; 

Throw earth away, but treasure soul with care — 

Gem. sacred, and beyond all price as Heaven ! 

Bright in Salvation's wardrobe let it shine 

In armor of Eternal Biditeousness. 



A Tyrant^ is the chosen scourge of man ; 
A head, who rules all others but himself, — 
Crown'd thief, that plunders groaning nations round 
Of life, of all — according to the law ! 



110 MISCELLANEOUS. 

One whom all fear, and no man ever loved, — 
The Tyrant — fiend ! another name for — Devil. 

He sits upon his scull-based throne supreme, 
Steep'd with perfume and glittering in his gold, 
And makes realm poor, to make him demigod ! 
Looks empire round, and governs with a nod, — 
The nod that robs his slaves of happiness. 
And binds on back of wretched servants all 
Life-crushing burdens — merciless as Death. 
He speaks ! His servile people all obey, 
And Nation's peace hang on his breath — a mote. 
His breath is law ; his words are statute-books, — 
Both life and death are trembling on his voice ! 
On distant countries writes : — ^^JRex Omnium " 
With blood of kings by him annihilated : 
O'er fellows reigns with scepter arm'd with might, 
Till slavery's chains are round a kingdom's heart, 
And kind death comes relieving from all wo, — 
Makes all the people slaves, — then robs and slays,— 
A basilisk that strikes his thousands dead. 

When blindness and injustice grasp the sword 

Of Pow'r — Right, Justice, gasp, and live no more; 

Imperial Power's a fearful thing in hand 

Of error-blinded and sin-govern'd man ) 

How oft have low-born Immorality 

And cloven-footed satan Tyranny 

Sat throne of kings, and scepters sway'd to scourge 

The world, and buy the hatred of mankind ! 



MISCELLANEOUS. Ill 

The one-man Power unmakes all other men : — 
A golden scepter and a diamond crown^ 
Can make what Nature hath made little — great ! 
Yea, cause the base-born blood of plebeian 
To metamorphose into Royalty^ 
And so divine the veins wherein it flows 
That hinds turn — Tyrants y Emperors and Kings! 

Earth should build dungeons for them, but not thrones. 

Or give to swords, 'stead scepters grant to them ; 

Then Liberty would rise and smile on Peace, 

To find that man is as God made him — -free. 

It would be well with Tyrants, likewise Earth, — 

They would not then to lawless monsters turn 

And make wretched Earth the victim they devour. 



^\)t ©lb Black Earn. 

A FABLE. 

A weary Grardener threw away his spade, 
lie-wip'd his sweaty brow, and sighing said : — 
''A gardener's life 's made up of toils — troubles, — 
Shall I sweat life away to gain bubbles ? 
I'll leave to base-born Toil and dust-wed swains, 
To reap these nothings and to store the gains.'' 
He ceased, and left his Eden situation 
To find some happier occupation. 

For twelve long months he traveled land and sea. 
But business found he none from labor free: 



112 MISCELLANEOUS. 

For fortune long lie sigli'd, for wisdom sought, 
But found them hedged bj diligence and thought. 
He compass'd earth awide from shore to shore, 
Professions, many tried — ay, by the score. 
To sigh this truth aloud : — "Rich, wise, I see 
Through life have been as busy as the bee ; 
And they that store their dust with greatest pains, 
Reap most of toil and trouble for their gains. 
Alas ! have I now sought the wide earth o'er 
My error but to find, and to deplore? 
Then, back to native land — to garden flee — 
Dear home of peace — sweet land of Liberty ! " 

When half way home his journey he had made, 

By chance he spied a Shepherd in a shade. 

Lolling at ease an idle hour away, 

Where merry breezes romp, and zephyrs play : 

The gardener said, — ''A Shepherd's life is glee. 

From toil and danger and affliction free, 

No cares at heart, no troubles haunt his mind, 

His Eden-home might make life half divine ! 

He lolls shade-couch'd, while tuneful pipe doth keep 

Bucolic -strung, twelve-acres-filling sheep! 

"My good, sir, Shepherd," — now our gardener said. 
While he approach'd the man and scratch'd his head; 
"Are you not free from all the toil and strife 
That midnight earth and thorn the path of life ? 
You're gay as lark, and merry as the jay, — 
A shepherd's life is Idleness at play !^' 



MISCELLANEOUS. 113 

^'Nay, nay," the shepherd said, ^' I tell thee — nay, 
Toils, cares, are round about me night and day ; 
Storms, tempests, blights, and other woes of earth 
Are frequent interrupters of my mirth ; 
There 's bloody wars 'twixt savage beasts and I, 
And oft I know not which of us shall die ; 
Sometimes a score of sheep do stray away, 
Like erring men from virtue's heavenly way. 
Though now the flocks seem innocent and gay, 
Yet bloody wars they have as well as play ; 
Behold, yon Old Black Bam with horned head, 
A score of rivals he hath smitten dead ! 
Bell-weathers all, whose heads are battle-proof. 
Do fall before him, or must stand aloof: — 
Old Thunder-head is up ! and nigger-like as Ham — 
Look ! mercy, man ! take care~I%e Old Black Ram/^* 

With bruises many and with bloody nose. 
And much ado, the woful Gardener rose; 
He leaped the hedge and eyed the ram despised, 
Whilst to himself he thus soliloquized : 

MORAL. 

'' Sure, gold is nowhere found without alloy ; 
Griefs, troubles, vail the sunny face of Joy; 
E'en honey-bees have stings — each rose its thorn. 
And down to death, life tumbles all forlorn ; — 
Ah, Earth! though thou seem'st guileless as the lamb, 
I find in all thy ways — The Old Black Eam ! " 



1 14 MISCELLANEOUS. 

learning. 

Sage Learning is tlie eye of mind wide ope, 
The life of Understanding that days soul, 
And sun that lights up Wisdom's orient noon; 
The food, growth and expansion of ourselves, — 
One long, lone life-inquiry after God. 
She blazes day to heaven the world with light. 
And bid god Knowledge king the throne of Mind ; 
Wisdom and Honor lean upon her arm, 
And Science hath his life and light from her ; 
Aye, star-e^^ed Learning is handmaid of Heaven, 
With bright Millennial glory in her smile ! 
AVhere she is not, Egyptian darkness lowers, — 
Her banishment is Chaos come again. 
She ever brings gr^at out of little things, 
And her sons grow up giants all around ! 
She is the light, life, glory of the world, 
And she like Virtue, is her own reward. 



toil. 

Wit is the lightning of the mind, the true 

Sublime of fools, or — Wisdom out of wits ! 

True Genius lodged in huge deformity; 

Eyes wink, and grin of every lip around 

Wit sits upon the throne of Jollity, 

And doth electrify the soul of Mirth 

While convuls'd Laughter holds his splitting sides. 



MISCELLANEOUS. 115 

Sage Wisdom, is in part, the gift of Grod, 

But Application seems his earthly sire, 

And his loved mother patient Study is — 

Those foes of Error and old Ignorance. 

His towering forehead picturing intellect, 

Speaks ocean-depth of thought dwells in his mind, 

And from his eyes the spirit's lightnings leap 

Alive, and glow Grod-light — immortal soul ! 

His eyes of fire, soul flashing, wisdom look, 

And see unblinded to the heart of Night. 

On his broad brow, sits Meditation deep — 

Intensity of thought that days the world 

And gives to man inventions new and strange ', 

Each feature talks of intellectual strength ; 

His looks announce : — God's image wrought in clay, 

A God-made man, and molded from the dust — 

From self-same earth that Adam was composed, 

And passers-by exclaim — '^Behold a Man!" 

His home's seclusion and lone solitude. 
Where soul awakes and Mind unearths itself— 
Re-born, and ripened by far-reaching thought. 
Out speaking loud to all Posterity, 
And wisdom-filled, as hand fills up a glove. 
He oft unnoticed stands, lost 'mong the crowd, 
And seems if Heaven's in converse with his soul — 
Mind full of vast conceptions all profound ! 
Modest, reserved — speaks little and says much, 
8 



116 MISCELLANEOUS. 

For he e'er loves to think, while Folly talks 
To show her lack of all things but a tongue — 
An all-tongued nothing and iniquity ! 
Reflection is his spirit's mighty wing, 
And Truth proclaims : "My seal is 'on his lips." 

Deep, patient thought, sits crown'd upon his brow — 

Crown'd like a king with Science's sacred stores ! 

In full meridian of his wisdom's blaze 

He reigns on throne of Greatness — Honor-crown'd, 

And ever hath his foot on Folly's head. 

Sage Reason, on his mind exalted sits ; 

His eye looks thro' the mists of Ignorance 

Where all is night to Mediocrity, 

And sends mind forth to rove the regions vast 

Of Error, Doubt and Gloom, till Certainty 

Leaps forth from Darkness and Uncertainty; — 

He grasps old Mystery and makes her his, 

And with Investigation moves the world. 

To all the starry hights of wisdom towers ! 

All gems of learning sparkle in his mind. 

And wealth of knowledge fills him with her stores ; 

From the deep well of science draws — world-light ! 

His soul of light unmasks blind jSTescience 

And unto human vision opes noon-day, — 

Reads starry skies familiar as a book, 

And takes great Being captive at a thought. 

A mid-day sun that lights Posterity, — 
A sun to lio;ht the age in which he lives— 



MISCELLANEOUS. 117 

The light of Mind as day of universe 

And constellation to Futurity ! 

His eagle eye looks vast creation through — 

He looks thro' Time and Life's dark mist of years 

And holds communion with Eternity. 

He talks with death familiar as a friend, 

And dreads the grave as little as his bed; 

He wears his earth about him as his robe 

Loosely, that he may drop it in the grave 

Without regret, as soon as Death's bell rings, 

And speed to many-mansion'd Heaven — all God's ! 

His life-deeds can not know oblivion. 

They shine — the guide for ages yet to come, — 

Born to be Wisdom to posterity ! 



The history of true GeTnius is Woe's own, 

And written too by Tribulation's hand : 

A foundling she, in Poverty's low vale, — 

In some by-corner, up from ashes springs 

A bright Divinity, that Common-place 

E'ermore condemns to gibbet, jail or rack, 

And howls aloud : ^ Letcher be crucified !' 

Lives while she lives on crumbs, and dies in rags; 

But, Phenix-like, her ashes do revive 

And wake to live an Immortality — 

The praise and glory of Posterity, 



118 MISCELLANEOUS. 

She is an Angel fallen from her Heaven, 
Therefore a stranger to this mundane sphere; 
And Earth, is too owl-eyed to see the god 
That came to life the Mind with living light 
And day soul's deep-down cell with heavenly fires; 
The laugh and scofi*, one of the other is, 
E'er at antipodes as pole to pole. 
Let Genius stem the world's loud laugh and scoff 
As eagle's wing the hurricanes of time,. 
And hope for smiles and a clear sky beyond, 
And thither ply her planet-sweeping wing. 

She is original, thinks for herself — - 

Originality deep as a sea ! 

Invention, is her fort and her strong tower, — 

Discovers all things that 's discoverable, 

And is creative like Omnipotence, 

Whiles Wisdom, parrot-like, learp^ all he knows — 

Knows all the books, and nothing knows beside. 

There is no Earth in her celestial form, — 

Surpassing all of earthly loveliness 

As luna's smile dim twinkle of a star; 

Haloes of glory sparkle from her brow, — 

In flash of eyes is Inspiration seen. 

As seems entire made up of Angel-smiles ! 

Her length of wing expanded,* rainbows skies, — 

Soars stars, and looks with eyes undimm'd on Heaven, 

As Eagle gazes on a noon-day sun: 

Benown and Fame ride on her star-spread wing 

And lead direct to Immortality. 



MISCELLANEOUS. 119 

True Grehius soars with bright Enthusiasm 

And makes all day where Learning's eye is night, 

And wide Sahara is where she is not. 

Bold Genius hath no orbit of her own, 

But takes her way thro' heaven pell-mell across 

Each star and Planet's path in universe— 

A flaming comet firing all' the sky, 

And Wisdom stands wild-eyed as she sweeps by : 

The Thunder-storm is noticed and revered, 

While gentle Breezes pass unheeded on ; 

All see the Whirlwind humbling Forest's pride, 

But Zephyrus flits unperceived away; 

The lake is seen, while streams are lost in her,— 

Let Pestilence abroad, and mankind quake ; 

So, mighty Genius — ^rarest gift of God ! 

Sweeps Earth storm-like and hath the thunder's roar :— 

She plays with Lightning in his hell-fire den 

And plucks high inspiration from his wing, 

While Common-place like fire-fly, specks the night. 

Bright Genius' wing is wild, and free as wild; 
If shackel'd, she is Genius then no more : 
Her wing is chain'd with Criticism's whims ; 
She dies 'neath Slavery's lash and Servitude — 
Death-darts thro' heart of a Divinity ' 
But let the Goddess burst from rules of Art, 
(By Dullness forged to bind old fogy Sense,) 
Thro' fetters break as Samson broke from withs. 
And soar to Fairy-land free and unchain' d 



120 MISCELLANEOUS. 

'Bove Wisdom's empire and tlie realm of Mind 
By her own bright Invention deified, 
Or Earth will dust her vision blind as bat's 
And turn the Seraph to an empty Ghost 
Sleep-graved with Common-place— forgotten quite. 

Let Science, Knowledge, Wisdom, Learning all, 

On weaker pinions flutter nearer Earth, 

And talk to Common-place by rules of Art, 

Or they shall find God's throne is not their home, — 

The Eagle's flight 's presumption to the goose ! 

The cock, on his own dunghill crows at will. 

While Eagle's proper home is the blue heaven — 

A heaven above Poll's parlor-fanning wing. 

Bright Genius glows like Moses' face on mount 

While heaven'd with near approach of Deity ; 

But Critics, Israel-like, would have her vail'd — 

Hide all the heaven bat-eyes can not behold, 

Then, make her up according to their wills, 

A thirty of Earthy earthy as Earth they love, — 

Rob Inspiration's robe of Glory's fires, 

And shroud bright Immortality in dust 

To make her like-mortality with them; 

Impious hands would pluck her wing of heaven, — 

Harness her wing'd Pegasus to the plow — 

A drudge and stupid dullness turn for life. 

And make him jog ass-like o'er plain turnpike 

Subject to boy's Geeho ! or grannam's lash. 

And then despise him — -for a poltry hack ! 



MISCELLANEOUS. 121 

But, Genius will to native Heaven in spite. 
And take unearthly flights thro' Angel-bowers 
Arms-link'd with her heart's love Enthusiasm, 
And Eden Earth with Beatific Vision. 



Smagination. 

Imagination is archangel-brow'd, 

And seraph-wing'd as Immortality. 

Her wing celestial, is by soul spread out. 

And leaves all temporal things as quick as thought,— 

To light's remotest smile speeds on at will 

And soars from world to infinite of worlds * 

Swift as the lightning, or the sunbeam's flight : 

She flies throughout Existence in a thought. 

With Chaos' shuddering darkness dwells at home, 

And speaks to it God's own : — " Let there be light ! " 

Calls up at will her infinite of worlds-^ 

Lifes them, and gives to each, light of her own, 

And revels in the heart of Mystery ! 

She standeth on the verge where Nothing dwells 

And sendeth on her eye sun-orb'd, soul-lit 

To Chaos' womb of endless quietude 

Beholding there new heavens in embryo ! 

Earth, Hell and Heaven of Heavens contain her not. 

Thro' vast Eternity she flies alone 

And scans Eternal things as those of Time — 

Unvails those wonders to the eye of man. 

And Fancy's Heaven fills with Divinities ! 



122 MISCELLANEOUS. 

I said to her : — ' Ride up^ and look on God ! ' 
But with affrighted stare, and wonder-smote 
She quick returned with holy tremblings rent, 
Whiles sacred Awe, and Silence cloven-tongued 
Look'd from her death-seal'd lips — Eternal things^ 
That Heaven's nomenclature alone could name, 
And less than Gabriel's trump might not announce,- 
Ah ! unrevealed to time, let them remain. 



Eloquence. 

''Whose words all ears took captive/' — Shakspeare. 

God of the flowery speech — loved Eloquence — 

Promethean fire upon the tongues of men ! 

Thy voice is sweet, thy words as honey flow — 

A sweeter breath Arabia never breath 'd ! 

A heavenly limberness of tongue sublim'd 

That paints to' life the picture of a thought 

With charms celestial that set Earth on fire. 

His sin-approving look proclaims — ' God's messenger ^^ 

While Feeling, every-tongu'd, speaks from his face, 

And looks a lecture e'er lips speak a word ! 

Each eye is fix'd upon this man from God — 

Attention's ear wide ope athirst to hear. 

And every soul to drink instruction in. 

He speaks ! His speech is soul thrown out to soul ; 

His words, like burning arrows fire the heart, — 

Seraphic sounds are echoes on the air. 

And sr)irits quake as tho' a god had spoken ! 



MISCELLANEOUS. 123 

His gestures t*lk from toes to finger's ends 
Ten thousand-voic'd; his actions speak all o'er — 
Speak out aloud like cloven tongues of fire 
" The wing of Passion, sentiment of heart P^ 

The store-house of his mind celestial fill'd^ 

He soars above the common-place of things 

As eagle towers above the fogs of Earth 

To love the unvail'd face of smiling Heaven 

And drink the glory from her noon-bright beams! 

The mists of Earth shroud not his spirit's eye, 

But 'yond all gloom he looks full-fac'd on Day 

Aflame on throne of Zenith altitude. 

And plucks bright Knowledge from the fount Divine 

While world of Mind illumes with his Grod-light. 

His speech, is gem'd with diamond-like remark, 

And Music has her throne upon his tongue; 

His words are like the voice of oracles, 

While soul of feeling seems of tears compos'd. 

Immortal thoughts roll ponderous thro' his brain 

And leap as giants mighty from his tongue. 

And all Earth-shaking in their Eloquence, 

That take Mankind a captive at his will 

And hang the world spell-bound upon his lip ! 

His theme, lies warm upon the speaker's heart ; 

Each thought 's a fire, and word a thunderbolt, — 

Voice from the wilderness — Elijah's own ! 

He stops full oft with his emphatic words. 

And heaven-full heart shuts up the gates of speech 



1 24 MISCELLANEOUS. 

While his soul-pictur'd face deep Passion burns, — 

Looks all his thoughts and lets soul utter them, 

And very silence speaks : — ^Language of soiUj^ — 

A silence far more eloquent than tongues ! 

His Pauses are — soul pouring out herself — 

Spirit-sublimity revealing Heaven, 

Where Passion shows her cloven tongue of fire 

Beyond all power of language to express, 

Or compass of all words to parallel — 

' Yond Heaven-tip'd tongue to yield its thunderbolt ! 

Persuasion, Reason, dwell upon his tongue, — 

His reasons weighty as the mountains are. 

And they are hard to kick against as rocks. 

He gives suuvshine to dark Conjecture's gloom 

Till wilderness of dun Obscurity 

Is all illum'd by Heaven's celestial smile 

And Godless Chaos wakes up — light and life. 

Guilt stands transfix'd by tongue of Eloquence, 

While Logic, double-edged smites Crime to heart, 

And Sin is all confusion and alarm : — 

Lays Falsehood on Truth's scales, and — ivantlng finds, 

Sifts Ignorance till she flies away in wind ; 

Shows Superstition's eye — a hoodwink'd fool. 

And casts from Error's heart — Beelzabubl 

His argument, smites killingly to Sin, 

Whiles Certitude, kings throne of skeptic Doubt, 

And hurls blind Infidelity to Hell. 

The thronging Nations wonder and admire 

While sacred Truth and Demonstration clear 



MISCELLANEOUS. 125 

Reveal the dragon-wilds of Mystery, 
And noonday, flames from face of Argument. 
His mind, light-full as soul with Holy Ghost, — 
Light, rays thro' soul like glory round a shrine — 
An atmosphere of day to 'lume mind-night 
And hold the hearts of hearers in his hand 
Till each soul wakes to feel and know the truth — 
Heaven-freedom from the servitude of Hell ! 
Blest Innocence applauds with loud amens, 
And Echo's shouts are answers in the skies. 



Memory^. 

The golden key to treasure-house of Mind 

That opes the gate of huge Eternity, 

And brings out hidden treasures new and old. 

God-light that days the holy place of soul, 

And resurrection gives to dust of Eld — ' 

To shadows oned with void Oblivion. 

Mind's ocean-depth where Understanding dwells. 

And soul reveals her immortality ; 

An Usher to great lumber-room of Facts, 

That scans Eternal things as tho' they were, — 

To Present-time gives bald Antiquity, 

And opes to mortals blank Eternity. 

She speaks to mighty Past: — ^ Arise and live!^ 

And death-seal'd Past to living Present wakes 

To reign god-lights in heaven of great Renown — 

Angels of Fame and Immortality! 



126 MISCELLANEOtrS. 

! what is this that wakes the soul 

To ecstacy divine, 
To taste the joys of Paradise 

While flesh and blood enshrine ? 

It is Religion, — -heavenly guest ! 

That tak'st from Death his sting, — 
That giveth Faith her diamond eye 

And Hope her flowr'y wing. 

Say, how was she to mortals given — 
By what great hand divine ? 

This light of life— this joy of heaven — 
Celestial peace of mind ! 

^T was by the all-atoning Lamb — - 

Atonement large and free ! 
By Jesus' blood that freely bought 

Our pardon on the tree. 

Christ sent this Comforter from Heaven — 

Full Paradise below ! 
And all the joys that are divine 

In this bright Eden flow. 

Without this Holy Comforter, 

Man's spirit 's lost for aye ; 
For, soul is ''dead in sin," and dead 

To all eternity. 



MISCELLANEOUS. 127 

This Paraclete speaks to the soul : — 

^Be horn to heavenly day!^ 
And soul that Sin hath slain, is lifed 

With — Immortality. 

All must embrace Religion then 

That would to Heaven aspire, 
Or ever-dying souls shall die 

In Lake that burns with fire. 

But, some in sleep, fell Sin hath lock'd, 

So deeply sunk in mire, — 
That one dread plunge shall scarce awake 

In Hell's eternal fire ! 



Couch'd on its Mother's breast, and bedded like 

A star in Ilea veil, a rosy Infant lay, 

On soft caresses and sweet kisses fed, — 

Heart-joy and a full feast by night and day ! 

A laughing Beauty wed to Mother's love. 

And smiling back maternal Love's caress, — 

Young Innocence with look as bright as flowers ! 

One little foot, peeps 'neath its careless robe, 

And lies — a soft snow-flake, down-drop'd from cloud. 

Its classic-molded. Fairy-face of charms 

All dotted o'er by dimples and sweet smiles. 

Talks meaningly of Eden e'er its fall, — 

A living Virtue — breathing Innocence — 

Love's gem, and Mother's only ornament. 



128 MISCELLANEOUS. 

iCtDain 6l)all be (D n c,—(Hol7/ Writ.) 

Our life 's one cliaos of confusion all — 
One somber night and lonely as the pall. 
Till Love, broods o'er the waste of ruin dire, 
And wakes up day and gives the heavenly fire 
To banish darkness from the soul away 
And open there — Life's Eden-ecstasy. 
All hearts are void that have not found their love, 
And they shall mourn their lost like widowd dove :- 
One desert-wild, wide opening in the breast. 
Deprives of peace, and robs the soul of rest. 
Unwedded Man, is lost without his mate. — 
Breaks Nature's laws and fix'd decrees of Fate ; 
While those united into perfect Love 
Have sip of joy from Angel-bliss above. 



Snspicion. 

Suspicion 's a pale-pausing Kestlessness. — 

She 's the sly-creeping serpent of the mind — 

A living Jealousy stuck full of eyes ! 

Suspecting all things are not what they seem; 

She thinks she spies defects in Virtue's self, 

And dreams of mites that never had a name. 

Suspicion, changes Possibility 

To Probability, then oft ripes all 

To Certainty, and holds Chance fix'd as Fate. 

She 's ever poor, least Want ?nic/Jd haunt her door — 



MISCELLANEOUS. 129 

A fancied Wretchedness tliat 's truly wretch'd, — 
In misery now^ for fear of woes — to come ! 
With future evils fills Life's cup with gall 
To desolate brio:ht Eden e'er its fall ! 



^\\t (Egotist. 

He 's curs'd with an incurable disease 

Call'd the ^Bighead!' His eye (he is all I) 

Sees nothing else on Earth but self alone, 

Or all mankind as emmets in his path ! 

He thinks creation is complete in him, 

And Earth was made eight thousand miles across 

To give him room to spread his vanity ! 

He shows his peacock-feathers to the sun 

With head toss'd six feet high above his boots — 

Pride swelled and dropsy-like, skin-burstingly 1 

Almighty-bull of all Earth's woods, is he. 



Niagara. 

Cow/posed while standing on the extreme verge of Table 

Rock. 
I long'd to see thee from a very child. 
And do I now behold thee face to face, 
Applause of Earth and wonder of the world, 
Where Nature dwells with her Beatitudes 
Clad in her rainbow-robe and ghost-like Mist? 
A Mist, made up entire of hovering Ghosts 



130 MISCELLANEOUS. 

To hide a Deity from mortal sight! 
I look on thee as on a sacred thing, — 
A revelation from the Fairy-world, 
Ay, Fairy-Land before enraptured vision 
Soul-feasting as a dream of Paradise! 

Enchantmeni! worthy of the Fairy-isles — 
The sight noons out and smite^ me like a blow ! 
I stand with Awe, and respiration 's gone, 
To give me soul and body to the scene, — 
To see Magnificence excel herself 
And glory of Dream-land made visible ! 
By roar of waters, heart-enchanted — lost 
As if a Syren's song hath captur'd sense, 
And made immortal Mind her prisoner, — 
Soul-fix'd to her as needle to its pole — 
In spell-bound frenzy quite Niagarized ! 

I see Grod in thy face, and bow the knee : — 

My eye's idolatry long and profound, 

Is it the voice of God thy waters speak? 

Don't say me — ^Nay!^ or I'll believe it jest — 

But answer — ' Yea!' for well I know it truth. 

A foamy orator art thou Niagara, 

Whose roar eternal, thunder-toned speaks — 'God!" 

The very mouth of God-made Nature — thou, 

To send Truth home to Infidelity 

Proclaiming ' God ! " with everlasting roar. 

God, laid his mighty hand upon thy brow, 

And impress of that Hand 's still visible ; 



MISCELLANEOUS. 131 

He put His finger in the heart of Earth, 

And scoop'd Niagara out from Lake to Lake, 

And lo ! its shores were walls of adamant ! 

Stay ! I must cast the sandals from my feet, 

For this is holy ground— a God is near, — 

Lo ! Earth, as Aspen-leaf, quakes miles around ! 

When God shall speak with Judgment-trumpet-voice 

Mortality's death-slumbering dust to wake — 

*^ Arise ye dead, and forth to Judgment come!" 

Will that voice be like thine — Niagara ? 

Those falling waters fall forever more, 
White -flashing in their foam and brilliancy, — 
A Fateful rush of wild despair,, that comes 
With frenzied leap all frothing into air — 
An Ocean-leap from off a precipice ! 
Destraction's rush that terrifies the soul 
Down-thundering to heart-center of the Earth! 
A chaos of mad waters tumbling down 
In frightful awfnlness of a death-bound 
With headlong fury and a world-crash fall — 
Fell Desperation's leap and the Hell-plunge! 
Till burden'd Air is but one jarring sound, 
One everlasting and romantic roar — 
A roar of waters and a world of spray! 
The murderous Cataract afoam with rage. 
Leaps ever from Niagara's awful brow 
As furious lion bounding on his prey ; 
While fallen waters grow like mountains up 
To meet her desperate coming in mid air, 
9 



132 MISCELLANEOUS. 

And god-like armies join in hideous crash, 

Whiles Kage and Fury in death-struggle, foam. 

Outrageous waters leap with Maelstrom -bound 

Up from their deep-dug graves like maniacs, 

And with down-dashing floods contend with might, 

And battle to the death for victory. 

Surge-army meets Surge-army, and devours, 

And Billow tumbles Billow down to death. 

Still, mountain Billows rise Olympus-high, 

By falling Billows met ten-millions-tunn'd 

That dash to foam and bubbles at a blow ; 

When, all, down sink by Whirlpool's heart engulfed 

Till metamorphos'd by thatHadean-whirl 

Mad floods rise up — a Kiver in its strength 

That flies an arrow swifting to a Lake. 

Uproarous floods rage, swell, boil, froth and foam, 

And in death-struggles whirl with bedlam-roar 

Whose rumbling thunder, booms eternal on^ — 

The roar of waters in death-agonies ! 

Niagara's horror-roar, seems not of Earth, — 

As if Eternity hath found a voice. 

And unto awe-struck ear of Time reveals 

Some wonder-mystery of a Deity ; — 

Like Horror's voice, or Hell's far ofi* uproar. 

An aqueous Epic for the World's charm'd eye 

To gaze at and admire till Time 's no more ; 

'T is Water's Iliad till Judgment-day, — 

A Battle-wonder 'yond a Homer's dream :— 

'Yond ancient gods in all their fury join'd, 

Tho' in the strife of their alinightiness 



MISCELLANEOUS. 133 

They rend the pavement of the pagan-heaven 
Till Jove's throne falls to pieces like a dream ! 

What clouds of Spray arise — the spectral Ghosts 

Of all that dash'to-death -down-tumbling ^ea! 

Dank, airy, curling, wreathing into Mist — • 

Chaotic-wild-bewilderment of Mist 

Uprising like the smoke of Erebus, 

And just the thing God makes the raincloud of! 

Eye-blinding Spray, down falls in ceaseless showers — 

Thick-white-outbreathings of the Cataract 

All rainbows-gem^d— so many smiles of Heaven ! 

It seems to me, Heaven's rainbow 'round the brow 

Of an eternity of Spirits bless'd, 

And yet, a rainbow-brow'd Reality : — 

Hot-breathings of some tortured Deity 

Whom Jove in his soul-blasting ire hath chain'd 

And now astruggle with Hell-agony. 

The greatest glory that the hand Divine 

Made this side Heaven, — thou art what God can do ! 

A complete glory that takes hold of soul, 

And bids her cast her sandals from her feet 

And tiptoe stand — white-eyed Astonishmei%t 

By Awe and Fascination spell-bound held :^- 

The thought of thy unique sublimity 

Shall add fresh glories to all coming life, 

And quite divine thy every-loveliness. 

I wonder much, if it 's profane to ask : — ^ 

Will Paradise a full -perfection be 

Unless Life River hath a rainbow-cl^^d 



134 MISCELLANEOUS. 

Cascade, just like thine own — Niagara? 

Is Heaven complete without Niagara? 

Then, we will have one near our Father's house,— 

But can it be more beautiful than thee — 

World-wonder-charm to every eye that sees ? 

For thou art what Omnipotence can do, — 

No hand but God's could make Niagara : 

! thou wilt do to be translated ihere^ 

For thou 'rt near a spirituality — 

Much less of Time than of Eternity, — 

The thing that Happiness can say ' Enough ' to 

When she hath seen the face of her Beloved 

That wakes the soul up — Immortality ! 

And — stay ! my very spirit in me leaps, 

To know if the Creator did not say : — 

' Come now, and let us make Niagara ! ' 

* A. God-made work,' thy every voice declares; 

And sure, the great Omnipotence in might, 

To try what His almighty hand could do, 

Grasp'd Chaos' heart, and made Niagara — 

Time's wonder and the Hell of Waters — was. 

Muse! wilt thou not awake thy song of heaven? 
Why is not every word I speak, a poem, 
When inspiration 's felt, and visible? 
Behold ! the Muses dumb and silent stand, 
Trembling in presence of a Deity! 
Sweet Poesy, becomes a common-place, 
Bright Romance too — all nothingness to this. 
Painting, lets rainbows-making pencil fjill, 



MISCELLANEOUS. 135 

While mind-convincing and converting Eloquence, 

With Eomance, Sculpture, find it sacred ground, 

And cloth'd upon by mum Astonishment, 

Stand, soul-adoring with divinest Awe 

That feels it a profanity to speak. 

Exaggeration's heavens-outdoing self, 

Takes his own brain-bewilder'd summerset 

Off foamy brink of frightful Cataract 

With Sam Patch leap to infinite below, 

And vanishing in misty nothingness, 

With death-sigh owns : — ^ I have no being here!' 

E'en sacred Truth, is tongueless infancy, — * 

Owns with knee-bent humility of soul : — 

* The dictionary is unpublished yet — 

Language unspoken by the tongues of men, 

That can describe Niagara's awful front, 

Or thunder, like that water-precipice, 

Whose sea-down-dashing-crush, shakes Earth's great 

heart, 
As Earthquake, the world's soul, to central fires.' 

The soul may feel, but Painting may not paint. 
Nor Song daguerreotype that aqueous Fall 
That looks a Dream more than Reality, — 
A Picture-wonder to all-coming Time 
Eternal-rainbows-crown'd and clad in spray ! 
A Raphael, would let his pencil fall, — 
> Soul-lost in presence-chamber of his God! 
And Orpheus, that moved the very rocks, 
And awed wild beasts, as Silence' statue stand, 



136 MlSCEliLANEOtJS. 

Or harp, discordant -tun'd, give jargon to the air, — 
Too great a glory for Art's hand to grasp, 
Or less than Nature's self to parallel — 
Nay, Nature hath but one Niagara I 
Let earthly greatness stand upon thy brink 
And sigh out truth : — ' Lo ! I a nothing am ! * 
Leviathan, with river in his mouth — 
The greatest wonder of the works of God, 
Would float a speck on thy down-tumbling sea, 
And with a heart-feel say: — 'I'm but a mite.' 
Enough ! I'm oned with thee while oned with Life, 
And when all-conquering Death shall throw his dart, 
He'll find thy name, Niagara, on my heart. 



Conscience. 



The prompter in Life's drama, Conscience is. 
An inward bible and the spirit's light 
That tells us how to act our parts aright; 
A sacred judge and inward monitor,- — 
Throne of the soul where all the Virtues dwell 
To weigh Man's deeds from cradle to the grave; 
Fair Virtue's court, that self to trial brings 
And shows what Evil is, and what is good. 
Lamp of the Lord illuming Mortal-night, — 
Ay, Conscience is, God-light in soul of Man — 
God's own handwriting on the book of mind, 
And eye of soul proclaiming good and ill — 
Both good and evil teaching Man to know. 



MISCELLANEOUS. 137 

In Con-science's mirror's seen the face of Heaven: 
A conscience pure, is peaceful quietude, — 
In very cannon's mouth may sleep secure, 
XJnharm'd by all the powers of Earth and Hell; 
While guilty-conscience isj life's purgatory, — 
An imp snake-tongued, with virus in his tooth 
Sore-rending spirit with the sting of Hell. 



See Folly's child, brought up by Ignorance ; 

He tosses high his empty head in air 

(Things light do float while heavy bodies sink) 

Without a mind, to wag his tongue aright! 

He is an all-tongued impudence and shame; 

He talks forever, and he nothing says — 

Gabs nothings and much nonsense in an hour ! 

Silence, to Fool, would be sage Wisdom's crown, — 

To him, the rod would — weight of knowledge give. 

He shows his tongue, to show his lack of sense, — 

'T would take some scores of fools to make one man ! 

His infant-mind *s mask'd in the shroud of night, — 

The Spirit did not brood upon the 'Fool,' 

And God's — ^Lei there he ligJit^' was not to him. 



. ®I)e |3abe0. 

With cheek of flowers sun-bright with cheerfulness, 
A youthful Mother smil'd upon her Babes^ — 
Two laughing Beauties fair as Innocence, 
That look'd the Angel-forms that haunt our dreams — 



138 MISCELLANEOUS. 

Sweet Innocence's repose on Virtue's breast ! 
Their little, classic -molded cteeks of morn 
By love-smiles lit and dimple-spotted o'er 
Talk meaningly — heart-feast by day and night — 
A world of joy, song, grace and loveliness! 
With what maternal fondness doth she hang 
Lost o'er her soul-loved charge — the darling ones I 
Heart-dancing time that brims Life's cup Tvith bliss- 
That Mother wooing Innocence to dreams. 
Lost to herself and dwelling in her Bahes ! 



When fierce wolves howl let antelopes beware, 

And the wild ox avoid the hungry bear; 

The King of beasts a flying deer pursues, 

Or takes his royal feast on kangaroos ; 

Eut these from kin, will quickly turn aside — 

(A beast by brother beast hath seldom died), 

Hyenas fierce, hyenas shrink to kill, — 

Tigers refuse their brother's blood to spill : — 

But ah ! let trumpets sound — the war-horse neigh, 

Then Man meets Man — in horrible array ! 

While cannons roar and trembling banners play — 

Man sheds his brother's blood in open day ! 

Yes — Man ! at fellow Man, will throw his dart, 

And laugh to see it quiver in his heart! 

Both Men and Devils 'like are ever fools. 
Folly, alike, their actions also, rules; 



MiSCELLANEOtrS, 139 

Destruction, is their Empire and renown, — 
Kingdoms to win by bloody and wear a crown! 
So, Popery thought, and Inquisitions fell 
Spread out wide havoc with the hate of Hell ! 
But where his Empire now, and where his reign, 
When Babylon hath fallen and Beast slain ? 
Him, Virtue killed by love^ for murderers pray'd — 
Drop'd t^ars for Persecution while he slay'dl 
Her Eden reign is — blessedness and peace^ 
And tho' Heaven pass, her Kingdom shall not cease. 
God, governs by this golden axiom true :— 
Love conquers all, and Mercy shall subdue. 



Envy ! the fiend of Hell that loves her mire, 

And aims to stab bright Glory to the heart, — 

A pamper'd demon smiting Peace in twain ! 

Her tongue is poisons-tipp'd, down- dropping bane 

And hissing blasts from lowest Erebus — 

The eye of Evil and the sting of Death! 

With jaundic'd eye askance, she looks at Worth, 

And- sickens when Perfection she beholds, — 

Grows sick to see superior PJxcellence 

Above her rise, and dares to live — a man. 

Base Envy, is the hound that barks at Name — 

Hell-hound that bites both Affluence and Renown, 

Snapping at all things greater than herself. 

And seeks to rise by pulling Greatness down ! 



140 MISCELLANEOUS. 

She spits her ratsbane-gorge on Honor's brow — 

That Grodlike weight of Kingly royalty ! 

Blest Innocence, is Guilt, at Envy's bar, 

And Piety, a martyr at her stake. 

With slander's cat-o'-nine-tail lash in hand 

Steep'd in the loathsome adder's poisonous bane, 

She smiteth Fame and Fortune right and left, 

And gores the sacred heart of Character, 

Till Wisdom, Virtue, bleed at every pore, 

And their pure souls with plaudits reach the skies. 



3nl)umanita. 

The moans of pining Penury and Want 

Melt not the heart of Inhumanity: — 

There 's flint around that ice-cold den of hate 

That Love's bright smiles can not imparadise, — 

In his hell-heart live Satan and his imps ! 

His acts of inhumanity and death 

Sent his aged parents mourning to their graves. 

His ear is deaf to widow's wail of woe, — 

One who could rob the orphan of his crumb 

And dig the dead man from his sepulcher — 

Earth's tear of blood and groan of agony ! 

I measure the inhuman demon in 

His breast, by his infernal acts to man. 

And find wherein he lacks of being all 

Devil, is made of base brutality — 

A monster without head and likewise heart! 



MISCELLANEOUS. 141 

The foulest blot on Human Nature's page; 

The whitest spot in him 's Cimmerian — 

Sear'd down to depths by Old Iniquity. 

In bosom's furnace burn volcanic fires; 

In this vile sin, Revenge and Murder dwell— 

Death in his words, and murder all his thoughts I 

His deeds of blood, fell Cruelty surpass, 

And give a horror to the name of fiend : — 

He doth out-knave Old Knavery and Crime 

And a dishonor is to Degradation — 

I measure Old Apollyon by this man ! 



Qlanhcx. 

His sulphurous breath is as the fumes of Hell ; 

He spits his poison on the works of God — 

Gnashing fiend-fangs in open eye of day ! 

A flying Dragon brooding on Death-wings 

To blot the sun from universe of God ; 

A vile reviler of both God and man, — 

Counts others faults but e'er forgets his own. 

His tongue 's malevolence and poisons-tipp'd ; 

He is the murderer of Character, 

And strives by day and night to hurl Renown, 

Worth, Wisdom, Honor, Genius, all headlong 

To Shame and everlasting Infamy, 

Where grim Forgetfulness gapes out ghost-grins 

At dark Oblivion and Nonentity. 



142 MiSCELLANEOirS. 

Avarice. 
Her famisli'd father was a prowling wolf, 
Her dam a Grriffin, born in Dragon's den, 
And nurs'd by Hydra in a Satyr's cave. 
Starvatiori is the home wherein she dwells; 
Want, Poverty, hang round her all their rags, 
And Hunger looks from famin'd Avarice. 
Tho' ever feasting, she ne'er feasted is ! 
She stores her gains and is not satisfied — 
Possessing all things yet complains of want. 
Because she loves my purse more than her own. 
If Ophir's bank were hers, she 'd want Peru's, — 
Nay, give her all the world, she still would weep 
That it was dust — not made of solid gold ! 
Yea, fill each wish her grasping heart can name, 
She'd die of grief to find — that it was all! 
She hath a greedy devil at the heart 
That grasps at shadows to let substance fall : — 
She 'd sooner fill her coffers with gold dust 
Than her dark mind with Wisdom's sacred light, 
Or heart, with all the virtues under Heaven. 
Canst satisfy the soul with temporal things? 
'T is counting sands and drinking oceans dry ! 



See empty headed, devil -hearted — Pride ! 
The whelp of Vanity, base Folly's brat 
Bred up by Sin and nursed in heart of fools — 
An air-blown bubble full of empty self! 



MISCELLANEOUS. 143 

His lofty look, down showers hopes-blasting Scorn 

On passing Poverty in honest rags. 

This stately-stepping son of Lucifer, 

Rattling with starch and ruffles struts along 

With a ten-million-pounds of pompousness 

Without two cents to jingle in his purse, 

And thinks his own god-rivaling self enough 

To fill the vast world with himself alone ! 

High flies his plume of pride aspiring Heaven, 

And great his wonder why the rabble live 

To cross his path — when Earth was made for him! 



Pride, upon Cruelty, \>Qg2i\r— Revenue : 

Forthwith from baneful quagmire he arose, — 

Imps on his horrid hair hung shrieking deaths. 

And from his combin'd locks fire-serpents hiss'd 

While thunders of his brow announc'd— -^ The Fiend I ' 

His tatter'd garments all disordered, foul. 

Stream round like many flames round damned Ghosts 

And ill conceal Deformity within. 

In snaky-bosom's den, and all unsheath'd, 

Revengeful poniards pant for blood of foes. 

His foot is cloven, and his head of horns 

Contraction is, and forehead low as Sin's. > 

He is flame-breath'd as Pandemonium, 

And sulphur-mouth'd as the infernal pit — 

Kindlings of Hell in his fierce eyebeams burn, I 



144 MISCELLANEOUS. 

His desperate grin hath a cold death in it — 
His fiend-like visage nests an Erebus ! 

Untutor'd Justice, fiery Vengeance is 
With a fork'd tongue steep'd in iniquity ; 
His soul 's a boiling Eage — a burning wrath, 
And heart of hate is the heart's hate of Hell; 
His own heart's venom is his daily food, 
And every word *s a dagger poison-tip t. 



iTear. 

Fear sits the heart-strings and the soul a-dance, 
And whets the mind keen as the razor's edge. 
Her cautious eyes white-rolling, take in ghosts, 
And fiends and spectres meet her every view j 
Her eye doth magnify ten thousand times, 
jVIole-hills to mountains round about her rise. 
Till Fancy's goblins seem realities. 
And her wan visage stares out like a Death ! 
Thro' her half-open lips, gleam chattering teeth, — 
Thoughts wild, and storm and tumult ia her breast, 
And hair like quills on back of porcupine. 
A corpse-like Paleness gaping like a Ghost 
Tiptoe and breathless — trembling in her place, 
And palsied at the noise her garments made ! 
Of quicksilver, her spirit 's all composed. 
And fainting body made of aspen-leaf. 
Her failing limbs quake 'neath her while she stands — * 
Au ague-shaking and a white -lipp'd Fear 



MISCELLANEOUS. 145 

Whose heart forever lodges in her throat ! 
She seeks to wrap her in grim Darkness' robe 
And shuns the light as worst of enemies, — 
Sight-loosing foot outflies the winged winds I 



Fell Anger looks a hot Beelzebub, 

Fiend-likeness and the image of an Imp ! 

His firm-set joints a trembling Eagerness, 

And foot of wind hath an elastic step. 

Distracted features, and eyes all a-glare, 

Picture Deformity defying Hell. 

His vengeful eyes, are daggers, and they stab,™ 

Their fiery' flames flash out death-arrows barb'd ; | 

In their wrath-fires a native demon dwells 

And madden'd spirit dens therein, lightning — - 

Eye-glaring Vengeance set on fire of Hell ! 

A very fiend at heart, and madman-brain'd, 

And his wrath-face,heart's thirst for vengeance speaks, 

Storm-brow'd, clench-fisted. Devil-hearted Rage ! 

Teeth set, blue lips part ope, with mad dog snarls, 

And hot and hurried breathing is a storm, — - 

Breathing red-hot- hell-fires of human wrath ! 

With full-fill'd heart and sweU'd-to-bursting veins 

He raves and foams like lion robb'd of prey — 

Dread monster to all enemies around 

That seeks to eat his foes up bodily. 

He steeps his tongue in Venom's fount of gall, 



l46 MISCELLANEOUS. 

And fills Ms soul with dreadful Fury's bane ; 

His squeak-voice utters broken sentences 

In accents false and hurried utterance. 

All evil Passions are Hell's battering rams 

That hurl down Life's clay tenement to dust, 

And o'er these Hell-hounds vile, reigns Anger, chief — 

Fiend-claw'd, and hottest devil of them all. 

Give Anger sway, and he'll devour himself, 

But hedge him in, and he'll seek for thy life. 

Subdue thy rage, or be by Rage subdued — 

Wrath whets a sword to gore thee to thy heart. 

Fierce Anger 's found in the fool's heart alone, 

While Peace and Love 's enthron'd on Wisdom's soul. 

Fell Anger desolates the soul of man, 

Bobs Reason of its gem and Judgment slays, — 

Face of a Demon to an Angel gives, 

And turns all hearts to furies, ripe for Hell, 



®rne ^^.tttbition. 



Swell not with pride, vain mortal, here below, 

By pride, the Devil fell — thy constant foe ; 

But cease thy murmurings and thy sour complaints. 

They very ill become the mouth of saints. 

And leave to Folly — Hell's own brainless flirt 

And peacock's tail to dabble in the dirt. 

Ah ! should frail Man be proud, a mor^tal boast, 

When he 's but dust, corrupt and fallen— lost? 



i.. 
MISCELLANEOUS. 147 |i 

I: 

Canst prop with puny arm old Ocean's head, 
Or drag Leviathan out with hook of lead? 
Then mount aloft Religion's heavenly wings 
And soar with Virtue to the King of Kings ; 
Less flight, ia Immortality's disgrace, 
And this alone — Life's golden^ glorious race. 

Trust Earth ! Are not the joys of Earth too few 
To call this world — 'A Paradise below?' 
Do not Earth-pleasures die as soon as born, 
And airy robed Bliss fade with the Morn? 
Doth rosy Hope not smile with promise fair, 
To shower on us the tempests of despair? 
Can we spend life on downy beds of ease, 
Or, 'scape the woful family of Disease ? 
^iVb/' Wisdom cries — '0! leave the land of Nod, 
Let earthly pleasures go, and look to God: — 
! mount aloft 'bove vanities of earth. 
Leave them to Folly, Pride and Sin and Mirth, 
And righteous live^ live for — eternal rest, 
And thou shalt liye — Earth's, Heaven's supremely 
blessed; 



toe all ho fabe as a ttaf.—(iHolyWrU.) 

Can there be aught that 's stable upon Earth 
When she herself is daily turning round? 
All earthly joys do wither soon as grasp'd; 
The nimble Hours dance little lives away, 
And we are old e'er we have learn'd to live; 
The rose, soon lays her crimson beauty by, 



148 MISCELLANEOUS. 

And fairest ones the soonest do depart. 

Man 's man tho' lie on air balloons rides heaven ; 

Yea, strength shall flee away from giant's arm, 

And Kings turn back to dust tho' they're embalm'd. 

Our life's short day soon turns to a long night ; 

From Life's pathway, all stumble to the tomb — 

We 're mourners at the funerals of our friends. 

Frail Nature cries — ^Age must give place to youth;' 

Upon his father's grave as on a stage 

The son plays Life's great drama to the end; 

Death throws Life's playthings by, and bids man sleep, 

He breathes on us, and we're — dust of a tomb ! 

All things must die and turn to dust again 
Fast as Life's flight can hurry them to tombs, 
For ^ Mortal 's' written on the face of all, 
And Finis ends the mighty Book of Tirhe, 
All things do flourish, fade, and pass away ; 
We die, and others live to weep our fall. 
And fall themselves in turn, a few days hence: 
The light of life but guides one's steps to death, 
And all do live but to prepare their tomb. 

Life, but a preparation is for Death ; — 

Then give each moment of thy life to God, 

And make thy treasure-house Eternity. 

Seek Virtue more than life and all Earth's stores ; 

Wed Piety, and hold Religion fast; 

They're diamonds when the finest gold grows dim :— 

These gems alone are current in the skies, 



MISCELLANEOUS. 149 

When all else fail, they shall but brighter grow, 
And star thy crown when stars themselves shall fall, 
To shine thy glories thro' the Heaven of Heavens. 



SCl)^ ®rat)e. 



All-conquering Grave — creation's final home ! 

Clay-house, where Earth receives her dust again, 

Thy jaws are ope for Old Mortality ! 

Thou drinkest up the mourner's falling tears, 

Nor pity nor compassion dwells with thee : 

Thou art as inexorable as Death, 

And Life and Time must fall and sleep with thee, — 

Great Being's last bedchamber is the Grave. 

A solemn pause on the Eternal-brink 

Sleep-lock'd and quite beyond the vale of Dreams- 

A long, lone bed of dreamless quietude 

Where the soul's mantle falls to sleep in peace. 

Thy silence speaks to very heart of Life 

With awful power and deep solemnity 

Of Judgment-trump by Hierarch Angel blown: — 

Thou turn'st to awe the very heart of Hate 

And wrappest Envy in her winding sheet. 

Solemnities hang round thee like a pall. 

And thy midnight is dark as Mystery — 

Sublime the quiet of the lonely Grave ! 

Death-brink, and threshold of Eternity, — - 

Night-lifeless, frown'd on by Oblivion, 

Where Grim Death holds his carnival of worms. 



150 MISCELLANEOUS. 

Thy calm, lone, fearful night seems long — how long ! 
But worn-out Nature needeth long repose, 
Well suited to wretch'd Feebleness and Age — 
Sweet peace and rest from toil and every ill; 
One long^ lone nighty but Morning shall arise 
And slumber wake refresh'd from all Life's woes. 
Sin dreads the dark, and Folly fears the Grave. 
While Virtue's eye of faith sees God beyond 
And fears the tomb as little as her bed. 
Death's downy couch art thou — care-killing Grave ! 
Where we put off Mortality's vile robe 
Cloth'd on with Immortality and Heaven — 
Thy opening is Heaven's welcome to the soul. 
The quiet Grave, is but a dressing-room 
Where we poor mortals lay Corruption by 
And put the robes of Incorruption on 
To see the Bridegroom married to the Bride. 
The very portal of Eternity, — 
Our safe way home to heavenly Father's house, 
For Heaven is seen dim-dawning through thy shades, 
And day Eternal opes all round the tomb, 
From which the Just will rise to sleep no more 
When Morning wakes to — Immortality. 



Time, is, the mettle of which Life is made, 

Seed-time for harvest of Eternity^ — 

It is the nursery of Eternity, 

Probation's stage where Life 's on trial kept, — 



MlSCELLANEOtrs. 151 

'T is Immortality's minority 
Rip'ning for the inheritance eterne — 
Apprenticeship that traineth for the skies. 
Sure, Time, duration in progression is, 
It is duration measur'd, parcel'd out — 
The morning's dawn to an eternal day. 
Time is Existence's constant flowing stream 
Forever emptying yet forever full. 
Life's lamp to light us to Eternity; 
Life's journey to the center of all Being, 
A broken link in Being's endless chain — 
A fragment from Eternal Being broke. 
Fleet-flying Time, an isthmus is that joins 
Eternity to vast Eternity ; 
A day of grace allowed Mortality 
To put the white robe of Salvation on. 

Time plucks the rose from cheek of Loveliness, 
And dims the day that lights up Beauty's eye ; 
Time blasts the sweetest flowers that bloom on earth, 
To wrinkles turns the dimpled face of youth, — 
Blasts Joy, and withers every bliss on Earth, 
And whets the dart that gives us to the tomb. 
Time drives his steed to precipice of Death, — 
His rolling years roll all things into dust. 
And ripes Life's harvest for the sepulcher. 
Time's clock strikes warnings for Mortality, 
And bids Life for Eternity prepare. 
While Echoes answer thousand-voic'd—' Pr6'j?are.^' 
Time's clock counts o'er Life's fickle moments all 



152 MISCELLANEOUS. 

To final one that snaps the fatal chord 
And opes Eternity to spirit-sight. 

Time flies, and his increase is Life's decrease, 
The loss of time is loss of life to all, 
And loss of life is — King of Terrors come, — 
How short a span between us and our graves ! 
Years, Months, Weeks, Days, his nimble children are, 
And on their lightning wings around him play 
As Cupids round the fabled goddess' smiles 
Thro' Life's short day to the eternal-night. 
Fast-rolling Years, the quickly-passing Months, 
The hasty-skipping Weeks, fleet-flying Hours 
And lightning-winged Moments — each a scythe 
Fatal as Death, and mows its thousands down. 
From winged Moments learn how short is life 
And value Heaven's own precious boon the more: — 
Each moment is a sphere in Life's short hour, 
And every time they ride their axles round 
Ten thousand Mortals huddle to the grave ! 
So like the lightning is Time's rapid flight, 
We backward gaze to look upon his wing, — 
Haste, or be left eternally behind. 
Unsearchable to man, to-morrow's fate, — 
Ah ! who can say — ^To-morrow shall be mine?' 

Sweet Time, that is so oft for baubles sold. 
Or thrown away as thing of nothing worth. 
The wealth of all the stars can not redeem. 
Record of Time, the history is of Death ; 



MISCELLANEOUS. 153 

Each day 's another page to book of Life, 
And all men's actions there are register'd; — 
Each moment spent, recorded is in Heaven, 
Rewarded with eternal bliss or woe, — 
My soul ! mark thou the moments as they pass ! 



(Eternity. 

Eternity ! Ah ! who can measure thee — 

Who count the years in vast Eternity? 

From birth of Worlds to their old age and fall 

Is but a cipher 'gainst Eternity. 

The mighty Gabriel's flight thro' vast unknown 

Since dawn of Time till Judgment trump shall sound 

Would only find this axiom to be true: 

Less than Eternity Icnows not Eternity. 

When thrice ten million ages roll their years, 

Eternal-clock moves not one moment on; 

And this, infinituply multiplied, 

The shadow stands upon the dial's face 

Same as they stood e'er these had run their course I 

To billions add as many trillions more; 

To trillions add quadrillions twice the sum, 

And unto this infinity itself, 

'Tis still a unit to — Eternity^ — 

Forever and forever-more as far 

From ending as beginning is — Eternity ! 

A billion billion rolling ages gone, 

With billion billion centuries in their train, 



154 MISCELLANEOUS. 

And myriad myriads more in mighty march, 

Yet, ever and the same the dial points 

On and for aye to vast — Eternity, — 

Points to Duration countless — yet to come! 

One sea beyond all length, or width, or depth — 

An ocean without bottom, end or coast! 

Immeasurable, incomprehensible — 

Without diameter, circumference! 

An unbegun and endless evermore 

Where times eternal roll eternal on, 

And ages rolling on — forever roll 

One everlasting now that knows no end, — 

End of all ends without beginning — end ! 

Thou lifetime of my God— ETERNITY ! 

Omnipotence alone can fathom thee, 

And only God, can fully comprehend. 

One endless present^ is Eternity, 

Whose being, no past tense will ever know ; 

One boundless future, all — forever-more : — 

No days, no months, no years — one living now, — 

One everlasting, fix'd— ETERNAL NOW! 

Incomprehensible Eternity ! 

The very name, wraps mind in world of thought, 

And every thought hangs awed upon the word — 

All lost as bubbles are on Ocean's width. 

Time's end, and jubilee of Being all. 

Duration boundless, endless infinite 

Where none can say — ' One moment hath gone by ; " 

Where centuries rolling on, forever roll. 



MISCELLANEOUS. 155 

While Angel-smiles light Heaven to always smile, 
And Hell howls out to howl eternally : — 
Thou lifetime of bless'd Immortality, 
Thou mak'st Heaven, Heaven, and Hell a Hell 
indeed I 



EKD, 



Cjie CUstEg $ttu. 

A VISION— IN TWELVE BOOKS. 



BY JAMES WOODMANSEE. 



CINCINN- ATI : 

FBINTED AND SOLD AT THE METHODIST BOOK CONCERN. 



OPINIONS OF CRITICS. 

I call the Closing Scene, the Paradise Lost of America. 

SAMUEL ROGERS, 
Author of " Pleasures of Memory." 



The Closing Scene rivals the Divina Coramedia of Dante. 
THOMAS NOON TALFOURD, 

Author of " Ion." 



The Closing Scene is one flight of sublimity from beginning 
to end — awfully grand as Book of Job. 

THOMAS EDWARDS, 

Author of ** Winter." 



"The Closing Scene" is the only great Poem, America has 
produced, and it is one of the most wonderful in any language. 

JOSEPH MAYHEW. 
(157) 



158 NOTICES OF 

A Nkw Poet. — Among the many new things of this age, is 
a new Poem by James Woodmansee, — an Epic in twelve books 
entitled—" The Closing Scene." The Author is not satisfied 
to be a mere story-telling rhymer, but employs the boldest 
strain of Poetic description; not occasional lovely gems scat- 
tered among profuse assemblages of insipid and drowsy lines — 
"dragging their slow length along," but a rapid succession of 
bold and original thoughts and comparisons. 

REV. L. F. VAN CLEVE. 



The Closing Scene.— A very able Poem. Woodmansee is 
not unknown to our readers; we have published some fine fugi- 
tive pieces from his pen. — [Boston Olive Branch. 



"The Closing Scene" is one Picture-gallery of gorgeous 
Paintings. Every page is a picture original and wonderful, 
terrific or sublime, beautiful or picturesque, and all as brilliant- 
ly glorious as summer's sunshine. The richest book for the 
Painter or Sculptor that I have read, is — " The Closing Scene.'* 
What a Panorama would it not make if painted by an Angelo 
or a Raphael! — [Journal. 



The Closing Scene : A Vision in Twelve Books. By 
J. Woodmansee. — We do not know anything of James Wood- 
mansee only as we have seen his name connected with this 
book, but if others are as favorably struck with the beauty of 
expression and the sublimity of description of the " Closing 
Scene" as we are, he will not long remain in obscurity. The 
characters here presented are the noblest in the universe — God 
and Man — the scene of action — Time and Eternity. The book 
abounds in plain truths as well as beautiful descriptions. It 
reminds us of Pollock's " Course of Time " and also of Mil- 
ton's great epic. — [Galesburg Democrat. 



The Closing Scene evinces a terseness and vigor of style 
rare among modern authors. — [Eaton Register. 



THE CLOSING SCENE. 159 

New Book. — Among the many recent publications, there is 
none that stands higher in point of beauty and sublimity, than 
the Closing Scene, a poem, written by James Woodmansee. 
The work shows the mark of deep thought and thorough study, 
and should be in the parlor or library of every family. — [Mid- 
dletown Journal. 



The New Poem. — Woodmansee is a lover of the horrible, 
and he is ever at home in the sublime and terrible. In terrible 
sublimity and horrible description, * The Closing Scene ' has no 
equal in any language, and its Second .Book, in my judgment, 
is the sublimest book ever penned by man. 

Though the Awful, is strictly Woodmansee's fort, neverthe- 
less, he can come out of Pandemonium at will, and fling as 
wide the gates of Paradise, as ever they were flung by less than 
Angel-arm. To prove this, let the reader turn to Book V, 
page 201, and take a walk with him through Eden-bowers to 
page 222, and he will show himself as full of beauty as a rose. 
He that wishes to see the Picturesque and the Beautiful, sub- 
limely mingled with the Melancholy and the Terrible, let him 
commence Book VI, and read to page 251, and if he does not 
own there are more Beauties of celestial loveliness here, than 
can be found in the same number of pages of any other Poet, 
I must say to that man — Judgment is wanting, and taste is bad 
indeed. Woodmansee's paintings of Nature are far richer than 
Thompson's, and his Picturesque is more divine than Tenny- 
son's, To me, the pages above referred to, are all — the Pic- 
turesque in its perfection — if anything in this imperfect world 
can be perfect — they are perfect. 

The thoughts of the Closing Scene are original, overwhelm- 
ing and sublime. They all jump in the soul of things at once, 
and tell at once what Common Place would prate about for an 
hour. The following extract is composed of single lines picked 
here and there from our American Iliad, and like Heralds from 
Etei^nity they meet our wandering gaze. 



160 NOTICES OF 

^^ Despair's simoons spread desert throTigli his soul. 

Wasteful as Earthquake jail'd in womb of worlds. 

Sahara was behind him as he fled. 

Annihilation opening in its look. 

The dust-awaking coming of the Lord. 

Their virtue gives perfume unto their dust. 

Soul-loosing as grim Death's dark Vale of Skulls. 

His stride Apollyon's shaking Erebus. 

More mighty than Xerxes five millions-arm'd. 

Startling as crush of a mad cataract. 

He look'd a prodigy — surprising Faith. 

Dark-deep-dumb-dead-soul-smitings of Despair. 

Bathed locks of long midnight in home of Mist. 

With spectres damn'd red-sparkling in her skirts. 

Worlds on fix'd orbs, ajar hung as he spake. 

A Dragon's jargon mutter 'd from his throat. 

Through-seeing gaze read thought in embryo. 

God's worldquake-coming and the great Assize. 

He look'd upon the other side of things. 

A world-consuming comet of a man. 

All the Ten Plagues of Egypt in one man. 

A fool's misdeeds are history of Crime. 

His fame's a blot on temple of Renown. 

To infamy on thro' the paths of Shame. 

Chaotic Darkness storming from his face. 

Bright Fancy's child 'lone equal'd by a god. 

E'er Grod-lit Being throned a Deity. 

A blazing sun in Wisdom's firmament. 

The tomb to noon with present Deity. 

Loud rattling many nothings in an hour. 



THE CLOSING SCENE. IgJ 

Vile contradiction and a living lie. 

Imagination's view of Deity. 

Earth's heart doth hallow Virtue like a God. 

Rub Life as cipher from the Book of Time. 

One long unmeasur'd ruin in his length. 

Sublimely-speaking-grandeur-thrones of gods. 

These are the heavens God made, and no stardimm'd. 

Like many fires, pale Ghosts light up grave-yards. 

Swings his Creation-uncreating-club. 

He sweeps Hell-armied on dragon-wings. 

Eternity dim-dawning thro' his form. 

His goblin-face as grim gaunt Famine grinn'd. 

And Palsy's smite fell on the face of things. 

Reap Fallen Nature's harvest as a field. 

Ill make wide deserts thro' the heart of Life. 

A scythe that playeth like Archangel's wing. 

That hell-crown'd King and giant-greatness — Death, 

Chain-lightning telegraphs the storms approach. 

Ghost-wilds of Darkness waving midnight-locks. 

Mad war outbellows many devils damn'd. 

Hell grows outrageous as a sea for prey. 

King-majesty sat on his brow with ease. 

And his life's day was one straight march to God. 

An earth-wide army and a world of men. 

A battle-driving Spirit consummate., 

For Virtue's eye e'er looks on Victory. 

Vengeance in midst bares his red arm of hell. 

Her arrow's flight the coming-on of Death. 

As ghosts of night from world-rejoicing Morn. 

Be swords to fight the Battle of the Lord," etc. 



162 NOTICES OF 

These are but a few gems hastily culled from that casket of 
jewels — " The Closing Scene." Long extracts might be taken 
of surprising Beauty, Horror and Sublimity ; but I have chosen 
to take single lines alone, in order to show the reader how 
much can be compassed by one far-sweeping thought. None 
but a genius God-inspired could have penned the lines above, 
" and unto airy Nothing gave a local habitation and a name." 

S. T. BROOK. 



Invocations. — The finest Invocations in the English lan- 
guage are Milton's, Pollok's, and Woodmansee's. Let us ex- 
amine them a moment. 

Milton's is classic and learned, but without its cadence, it 
would be mere prose. Harmony of numbers is one of the 
qualities of Poetry, but it is not Poesy herself ; we want more 
than word- music, and prose in measure is contemptible dog- 
gerel. Destroy the rhythm of Milton's Invocation, and you 
make prose at once; but worse than all, — it is not his own! 
Both Virgil and Milton have stolen their Invocations from 
Homer ; let us bring the Iliad and Paradise Lost side by side 
and see. I give a literal translation from the Iliad : 

" Of Achilles deadly wrath, the source of many thousand 
woes to Greece, which sent countless souls of heroes down to 
Hell, and left their bodies to devouring dogs and birds, — sing 
Muse! Who of the Gods impelled them to contend? The 
son of Latona and of Jove. He it was, whose rage burnt hot 
against the king, fierce Contagion sent to all the host, and mul- 
titudes destroyed." 

Now hear Milton :— *•' Of Man's first disobedience and the 
i fruit of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste brought death 
into the world, and all our woe — sing Heavenly Muse! Who 
first seduced them to that foul revolt ? The infernal Serpent ; 
he it was, whose guile, stirred up with envy and revenge, de- 
ceived the mother of mankind." Who can not see, that this 
Invocation is but the adopted child of old John Bull, even a 
step- son of the great father of Poets — Homer himself ? 



THE CLOSING SCENE. 163 

The rest of Milton's Invocation is taken from Scripture ex- 
cept the couplet : — 

" I may assert eternal Providence 
And justify tlie ways of God to man." 

Two very beautiful lines indeed, and I know not from whom 
he stole them. Milton as far surpasses all Poets in plagiarism, 
as his great Epic does all the Poems in the English language. 

Not so with Pollok, — he is no thief ; all the gems he has are 
his own, and they are Legion. * The Course of Time ' is not 
so great a poem as ' Paradise Lost,' and far below the glory of 
*The Iliad,' but it will do more good to the world, than both 
these mighty Epics together : — but to his Invocation. 

As sure as * Eternal Spirit ' is ' God of Truth,' so sure Pollok 
has written tautology in the first, and nonsense in the second line 
of his immortal Poem. Things * seem ' to men, but to * God of 
Truth,' — all truths are truths. ^ Thou,'^ in the second line, 
makes his Invocation read thus: — ** Eternal Spirit! God of 
truth! to whom all things seem as they are; Eternal Spirit! 
God of Truth ! who of old,' — eight tautologous words in two 
lines! But let that pass; to show all his tautology would fill a 
volume. 

Pollok is unclassical in some of his expressions, and fre- 
quently he seems not to know the power of words: — " Muse 
chanting loud in windy rhyme." The word ^^ windy ^' is out 
of place; there is correct and false rhyme, but — '* Muse chant- 
ing loud in windy rhyme," is a monstrosity, and belongs not to 
the tuneful Nine that on Parnassus dwelt. 

In the following, Pollok reveals his greatness: — 

^'Hold my right hand, Almighty! and me teach 
To strike the lyre, but seldom struck, to notes 
Harmonious with the morning stars, and pure 
As those by sainted bards and angels sung. 
Which wake the echoes of eternity.' 
11 



164 NOTICES OF 

This is to strike the lyre that will wake the echoes of Eter- 
nity. It excels all the Invocations written before Pollok's day. 
How fearfully bold is the thought: — *' Hold my right hand, AU 
mighty P^ I know not its equal in any language. lodeed, the 
whole of his Invocation, save a few jumble of words, and con- 
fusion of ideas, is exceedingly beautiful, and it is excelled 
alone by the Invocation of " The Closing Scene," where 
no confusion is, but all is pure and classic as the Classics them- 
selves. How divine is the opening of this Poem! 

''First Cause of every cause— Almighty Cause! 

Forever present, always Ancient One, — 

The life of all, great Being's dawn and end — 

All-making Lord — the All in All and Sire, 

From everlasting to e'erlasting — God ! 

Incomprehensible and infinite — 

The fullness of Immensity for aye ! 

To whom, the Heaven of Heavens is but a seat, 

A footstool Earth, and Hell — a spark of fire ! " 

There is no finer address to Deity than this. Without such 
a God, all worlds would be 

"A Speck of dust 'mid Chaos' deep profound, 

A mote on bosom of Nonentity — 

Too small a fiber for the scales of Nought!" 

This reminds us of that heavenly Epic sung by the Divine 
Poet and Lawgiver: — 

God said, " Let there be Light :' and there v/as Light ! 

Where find such soul-devotion as in the following: — 
" 0, rise my soul ! with holy Kapture rise 
To adoration mute-astonishment ! 
With sacred awe and spirit-trembling breathe 
Thy thoughts too hallow'd all for utterance, 



THE CLOSING SCENE. 165 

In deep, dead-silence dumb with reverence 

His name eternal musing — lost in Him ! 

This world from thine immortal pinions shake, 

Shake imperfection — mix with Purities 

Whose every thought 's a prayer and breath a psalm 

And God their all in all eternally." 

Woodmansee's Invocation, might with great propriety, have 
commenced with these lines: — 

" Spirit of God! thou— Light Ineffable ! 
Brood o'er the dark of my chaotic mind 
As "o'er the water's face " when Nature's self 
Confusion lay the bosom of Old Night: — 
With Glory's flame and Thy divinity 
Illume me as Thou didst Creation then, 
That rose complete to magnify Thy power — 
Stupendous wonder grand to Angel-eye, 
To mortal sight another Deity," etc. 

This is full of glory as noonday. How Gabriel-like he talks 
with his "Almighty Cause," in the following: 

" The Closing Scene, in wond'rous Visions wild 

Give me to sing assisted by Thy power 

T' sonorous note of tempest-melody, 

Or deep-ton'd organ of Eternity 

That smites the listless ear of hideous Ghosts 

In Den of Night, and stuns the Wo-gnaw'd soul 

Of Melancholy, wreck'd, in chamber damn'd." 

"What an awful Harp is here invoked ! Is there an Invoca- 
tion in any language that can compare with this? None that I 
know. Lo! how Angel- like comes his Vision! It far tran- 
scends Dante's, or any "attempted yet in prose or rhyme: — " 



166 NOTICES OF 

^' When orient 
To spirit*sight — all-seeing Virion came ! 
. Her wing celestial pluni'd, and to me gave 
The Valley of the Shade of Death! Rolled up 
The curtain dark of Doom. Minds startled eye 
Affrighted sore, drank in — Eternal Scenes I" 

The InTOcation of * The Closing Scene," with great pro- 
priety, may be called a — Psalm. Should an Apocrypha ever be 
added to the Psalms, this devout and sublime Invocation, will 
be — * The First Psalm;' — as all- worthy to end the divine songs 
of the sweet singer of Israel, as The Apocrypha to close the 
Old Testament. REV. M. C. C. 



ON EULOGY. 

[an extract.] 

In Book III of the Closing Scene, the Poet paints the full- 
length Portraits of many great personages, and I must own 
they are sketches of surpassing power, — all models of Eulogy 
to be studied in ages yet to come. Woodmansee puts the he- 
roes of Antiquity into his crucible and seethes them to an es- 
sence, then gives us the spirit of his hero. Never was there 
more history in fewer lines; Cesar told not more in his cele- 
brated letter: — " Veni vidi vici " — than our. poet in the same 
space in his pen-Portraits — a volume to a thought I When I 
first read them, I wrote a very shy word, (almost a stranger on 
Eaith) * Perfection,^ on every one of them, and I have not call- 
ed for my India-rubber yet. Every time I examine them I ex- 
claim as Pilate did of Christ: — " I find no fault in them." Here 
is Eulogy in its perfection, — just in sentiment, original and far- 
sweeping in idea, and every thought a wreathe of glory glitter- 
ing diamonds. Heretofore, Tacitus excelled all writers in Eu- 
logy, but we had no perfect Model till Woodmansee wrote his 
third book of the Closing Scene. I would like to give long 



THE CLOSING SCENE. 



167 



extracts here, but I must confine myself to mere items. Hear 
him talk of Homer: — 

*' Fame's wonder and the Muse of Bards for aye, — 
The household-god for soul of all the world ! 
Bright Glory's spire on temple of Benown — 
His name is Glory's ornament and pride ! 
Alone in glory like the sun in heaven 
Whose day -bright firmament admits no star : 
, Terrific rolleth on his thunder thoughts 
And lightnings flash from every lay he sings, — 
The Jove of Song ! he lives a thunder-peal 
In ear of Time till Earth shall be no more." 

How beautifully he speaks of Sappho: 

" Whose life a poem and pall a drama was. 
Her harp Heaven-tuned to sweetest harmony 
Eolian, and thoughts a thousand flowers !" 

And England's great dramatist: 

Shakspeare ! what diamonds sparkled in thy mind ! 
A mind-mint coining thought unthought before^«- 
The head and heart of every age for aye ! 
Beflection's self sat mighty in his soul : 
Illumined spirit, Genius unsurpass'd — 
He look'd upon the other side of things ! 
The child of Nature and the Son of Song, — r 
Inspir'd song peal'd from his immortal harp 
As psalm of Heaven by Angel-lyre awoke. 
He oped the human heart to eye of man : 
His Dramas are Daguerreotypes of Life, 
And they map out great Nature like a chart— r 



168 NOTICES OP 

Of Natures own handwriting a fac-simile!" 

What a day-bright picture this of Milton: 
*' Singer divine and Angel of the Earth, 
He touch'd his lyre and Eden bloom'd again — 
More heaven in him than all his age beside ! 
Too great a light for Death-shades to eclipse 
And vast a glory for a tomb to hide." 

He says of Kirk White: 

^' His songs are very fragments of his heart, 
And speak divinely like an Angel'^ voice." 

He says of the *' wiley Ulysses: " 
" His history a tale and life a romance ! 
" A galaxy of stars shall crown his brow, 
And Earth's heart be his living monument" 

He calls Achilles: 

" That most terrible of men — 
The dreadful breaker of the ranks of war ! 
Storm-sweeping hero furious as Death ! 
An army-routing god — thunderous as Heaven ! 
Immortals bled — the mighty were in dust 
And fury of his vengeance kill'd remote." 

Of Alexander: 

' Like Death, his spirit had a quenchless thirst ; 
His orphan-breeding sword made desolate ; 
His hero-felling arm was foe's despair, — 
Oppose his might and vanish out of being ! 
He laid his hand upon the World's great heart 
And made it beat in union with his : 



THE CLOSING SCENE. 169 

He stamp'd his mark of conquest on mankind, 
And they, and their possessions number'd his." 

Of CiESAR: 

"That man-of-men of mighty daring made! 
He knew not fear and never heard of flight, 
The soul of Valor and the battle's life — 
The fearful victor of a thousand fields ! 
World-conqueror— right hand of Victory, — 
He hid in Valor's cloak Ambition's deeds. 
Throne-born, by Valor king'd and all the gods : 
The shining wonder 'bove Earth's greatness tower'd — 
A living Mars and mortal Jupiter !" 

He calls Wallace: 

Victory of Valor. 
War's flame in bosom of his patriots — 
The heart and soul of every hero's breast! 
He, in the greatness of his glory, towered — 
Outpouring of his strength was majesty; 
Wond'rous to men the story of his might. 
All greatness save great Wallace' self, excelling." 

There is more history in the Eulogy on Bonaparte, than there 
is in Sir Walter Scott's ponderous and novel-life of the great 
hero, but I must omit it, to give a few lines- on Washington: 

^ Earth's pride and more than king — • 
Heaven's chosen sent to set a Nation free. 
His world wide throne the heart of all mankind. 
Beloved of Freedom and the bless'd of Heaven, — 
He was of sacred Freedom born, and drank 
In Liberty with his own mother's milk — 



170 NOTICES OP 

His cradle-song the song of Liberty ! 
Renown of arms and ornament of Peace j 
His country's savior and that country's love ; 
Lyre's voice, and odes of many cannons' mouthg. 
Great parallel to Piety and Worth ; 
Just, noble, brave — hero to God and man, — 
One whom Religion's self delights to laud ! 
Heaven's own anointed and her God-inspired 
Divinity of greatness, glory of renown! 
His greatness, would with Glory's light halo 
All-lustrous, diadem of Universe, 
And virtue, to its throne add ornament ! 
His wonderous deeds exalteth Heroism, 
And Honor's path's illum'd with his god-light. 
Like his great Parent — God ! he gave to men 
Treasure divine, e'en — Freedom — Liberty, 
And Independence crown'd Columbia's brow !" 

Then follows Newton, Fra'nklin, Howard, Ginglias Kahn, 
Nero, Maximin — all immortal Daguerreotypes, but I have no 
more room for extracts; let all purchase a copy and — "feast 
on marrow and fat things." The III Book is worth thrice the 
price paid for the volume. L. A. KESSLING. 



THE CLOSING SCENE. 
There is no page in this wonderful Poem, on which we might 
not write: — " Beautiful, or Elegant, or Grand, — Splendid, Mag- 
nificent, Picturesque, Sublime." In horrific sublimity, it has 
no parallel, — Dante's Inferno does not equal it. I study the 
Closing Scene, as I do the Revelation of St. John, to lose my- 
self in the Eternal World, till I seem to stand within the gates 
of Heaven. All the books written in this age, would not make 
— ' The Closing Scene.' Rev. H. MARSTON. 



THE CLOSING SCENE. 171 

EXTRACT. 

Ossian's Sun and Moon have been the admiration of the 
world from the time they were penned till the present, and they 
both glowed alone in their glory till the Sun and Moon of the 
Closing Scene eclipsed them both. No sun, but the one God's 
own finger made, shines with the brilliance, or " walks the 
heavens" with majesty like the " day-eyed sun" that illumes 
the Fifth Book of our American Iliad. I know of no thoughts 
more classical, elegant, far-reaching and sublime, than the Sun, 
Moon and Stars of this wonderful Poem. Indeed, all the Vis- 
ion of the Millennial glory, is an unequaled Panoramic glory, 
whose picturesque brilliance and surpassing magnificence, makes 
all other paintings and poems poor in the comparison, C. K. 



MELODY OF POEMS. 

[an extract.] 
The Closing Scene, is the most melodious poem in the Eng- 
lish language. Pope's sing-song not excepted. Open the vol- 
ume where you will, and scan the first page that meets your 
eye, and you will be convinced that it is harmony itself : — 

"No Spring to wake her little infants up ! 
No Summer paints her blushings on the pink 
And rose's cheek, or heavens the violet's lip ; 
Nor yellow Autumn breathes to ripe her fruit, 
Or view her leafy honors fly the breeze, 
But Winter reigns sole monarch of the year. 

This is Poetry as well as Melody. There are no prosy ex- 
pressions in The Closing Scene, so frequently met with in our 
greatest Poets. Hear Milton himself : — 

"No wonder, fallen such a pernicious hight;" 

Or this:— 

"Burnt after them to the bottomless pit;'' 



172 NOTICES OF 

Or. 

" For still they knew, and ought to have still remem- 
ber'd." 

He that *' hath music in his soul," let him scan these, and he 
will find — a brier-bush. Here Milton falls "a pernicious" 
depth ; who would think of making poetry of " No wonder ?'* 
It is strange that classic Milton made use of this unclassical 
expression, and let it stand so— a running ulcer in his immortal 
Epic. There are no such ulcers in The Closing Scene — not 
one. Woodmansee has an ear, and taste as fine as his ear, and 
the melody of his ' Closing Scene,' is the voice of the Eolian 
Harp. J. C. KING. 



THE CLOSING SCENE. 

This great Poem is modeled out as Longinus would have 
modeled it — sublimity itself. Its imagery, description, lan- 
guage and thought, fill every rule laid down by the Greek Critic 
in his work — " On the Sublime." 

The Scene, is laid in Oblivion, — and what a horrific Pano- 
rama it spreads out to our view ! 

"On Horror's head horrors accumulate." 

Dante's Inferno nor Milton's Hell, does not equal it. All is 
horridly majestic, and each Description is painted out life-size, 
and is as Homer would have painted it — simple in word and 
powerful in effect. Woodmansee is not satisfied with the com- 
mon-place trash of " To-day," but he wisely goes back to clas- 
sic Antiquity and models his Poem after the old immortal 
Bards. He has studied Homer with great cave, and drank in 
the spirit of his master till we feel the great father of Poetry 
lives again, and we are persuaded that both Justice and Truth 
must call the author of The Closing Scene, the ' Christian 
Melesigenes.^ 

If- he finish his last Six Books, complete and perfect as he 
has done the six already given to the world, and they all 
make one complete whole, The Closing Scene will be a great 



THE CLOSING SCENE. 173 

National work, such as America has been in travail to bring 
forth from her womanhood, and it will crown its Author em- 
phatically — the Homer of America. There is nothing our Lit- 
erature wants more than such a work; it would be a sun to day 
her night that never yet has known a morn; it would give tho 
New World character and notoriety abroad, — wreath her brow 
with brighter glories, and send her name further than many 
Presidents. 

If there is anything that can make a great nation forever a 
debtor.— forever too poor to pay, it is such a work. Could 
Greece have paid her Homer for writing the Iliad? 

" Homer is gone ; and where is Jove? and where 
The rival cities seven? His song outlives 
Time, tower and god — all that then was save Heaven.'^ 
My prayer goes up morning and evening, that the Author 
may live to complete * The Closing Scene,' and feel the Laurel 
crown a weight of glory on his brow. CLIO. 



THE NEW POEM. 
Chance threw in my way — The Closing Scene, a Poem 
printed at the Methodist Book Concern in 1857. I had not 
heard of the book before, and seeing where it was published, I 
thought to myself, — ' something prosy, of course.' I opened it 
near the middle, and thought I could scan it to the end, e'er the 
opiate would give me to the lap of Dreams. What was my 
surprise! Reader, did you ever sleep in the open air, and awake 
at midnight to find all the stars of heaven laughing down in your 
face? If you did, and have a soul in your body, you can tell 
how I felt while reading the 217th page of The Closing Scene. 
Stars of the first magnitude rushed blazingly to view from 
every thought I met, till my very soul was illumed by the glory 
of * The Closing Scene.' I purchased a copy, and I have read 
it over and over again, and at every reading, still new glories 
open to my view. I study it — line by line as I do the mysteries 
of Revelation, *' feasting on marrow and fat things. "What 



174 NOTICES OF 

beautiful descriptions! How picturesque! What invention! 
What power of language and originality of thought! What 
fire, grandeur and awful sublimity ! 

^'On Horror's head horrors accumulate!" 

and yet as beautiful as May-morning! 

B. S. LONG, 
Author of ** Alethea." 



OUR REVIEW. 
^'America's the land 
Where Genius sickens and where Fancy dies." 

America has produced — An Ode to Shakspeare, Marco Boz- 
zaris and Parrhasius, and diamonds they all are, — all perfect 
little gems; but gems are little trifles after all. They will not 
stand up as beacon-lights in the dark night of Futurity, and 
noon all Nations as a summer's sun, and give Fame's crown of 
glory to Columbia's brow. We have produced no National 
Work — no Epic that hallows Poetry as a thing from God, — an 
Inspiration sent like a flaming comet to win a wild -eyed gaze 
from all the world, and splendor up the night of dim Futurity. 

I grant, " The Columbiad,'* has books complete, but 12 books 
don't make an Epic, — " clapt hodge-podge together, they don't 
make a tree." 'Tis quality we want, not quantity. A great 
deal of a dull thing, is a great deal too much. The Columbiad 
has the rhyme, but not the poetry, pathos, fire, sublimity, in- 
vention and genius of an Epic Poem; and therefore, it lays its 
weight of dullness on the shelf — an intolerable great bore. 

'^America's the land 
AVhere Genius sickens and where Fancy dies." 

This hackneyed old slur has filled the mouth of England 
from time immemorial, and haunted 

"The land of the free and the home of the brave," 

like an Evil Genius; the very sound, more hateful to our ears 



THE CLOSING SCENE. 175 

than the hoot of an owl, — and hateful, alas! because it is 
too true. Shall this despised old Death's head grin out on 
oui* happy America from infancy till she is graved? If so, I 
ciare not how soon her grave is dug. All countries have 
their National Poems but America: — 0, mother! why art thou 
so long barren? 

But, where shall our Homer be born? Where should he be 
but in the far West? E'en in the wilderness, where Fashion, 
Vanity and Luxury shall not corrupt the man, enfeeble the 
soul — fetter and enslave the immortal Mind. Yes, let liim be 
born in the West, where Nature in her nakedness is seen, and 
where Fancy has room to spread her wing, and Mind expand 
huge as a Prairie. Such alone shall write our Epic, and not 

"A lisping, curl'd gallant, with words in mouth 
Soft as his mother's milk," and band-box in 
A city ! 

Yes, in the West, he Is already born, and our Iliad — al- 
ready WRITTEN. Reader, be not surprised at this, but keep 
your astonishment to wonder with 'exceeding great wonder' when 
I tell you — THAT Iliad lies on the shelf uncalled for and 
unread! Thus Greece served her Homer and England her 
Milton long as they lived! Who shall be our Addison to bring 
the Milton of America from this night of Ignorance, and in- 
troduce him to the world — a God-send dropped from Heaven? 
We have long agonized for a living American Poem; it is pub- 
lished, and the first Edition — unsold. It is an anomaly, that 
sensible and good men will laud to the skies, the heart-cor- 
rupting, mind- enfeebling common-place of Dickens, Bulwer, 
Sue and Scott, while the true works of Genius that bear the 
stamp of Immortality in every thought — lay on the shelf ! There 
is more splendor of thought and originality, in onepage of * The 
Closing Scene ' than all the trash Eugene Sue ever penned, and 
yet ' The Mysteries of Paris ' had a world-wide sale, — 
"0, judgment! thou art fled to brutish beasts 
And men have lost their reason 1 ^' 



176 NOTICES OP 

The Closing Scene is an Epic, and the great Battle fought, is 
not to gain the hand of a fickle woman, as is the case of The 
^neid, nor by a few cowardly Trojans and outrageous Grecians 
as found in the Iliad, but it is for the conquest not only of Earth 
but great Being's self, climaxed with " The wreck of matter and 
the crush of worlds." So we see, the Scene of this wonderful 
Poem, infinitely transcends all the Epic poems put together; 
and not only so, but it is impossible for the imagination of man 
to conceive a greater scene than the one laid in this sublime 
Epic; all greatness is swallowed up therein — -beyond Imagina- 
tion itself ! 

The Characters, too, are vast and awful as the sublime and 
terrible scene, — God and Man; Life and Death; Time and Eter- 
nity. The rankling critic, may be disposed to snarl because 
some of the characters are Allegorical; but he must swallow 
his own venom, for The Closing Scene is a Vision; and in 
Vision's Vale, all is allegory. Grim Death (a character true to 
the nature of things) is the all-prevailing Hero of the Poem, 
and not only drives Gog and Magog to a great Epic Battle, 
but he has his dart barbed for Mortality herself. What a 
'dreadful character is the Grim Death of The Closing Scene! 
He stands alone — the King of Terrors with every Horror 
crowned. Homer, Virgil and Dante's heroes, infernals and 
spirit damned, are shadows to Woodmansee's Hell-begotten 
monster — Death. 

His direful form of famine looks disease 
And battle forth with pestilence and wo, 
Whiles Dissolution gurgles from his throat. 
Destruction-arm'd and Terror-clad he stands 
A statued Horror — Fate is in his look! 
His eye the fiery lightning's sheeted flame, 
And arm the lowering thunder's desperate might. 
His laboring brain a carnage-house of wo 
Liaunted and fed by fury of his soul, — 






THE CLOSING SCENE. 177 

Death-dooms are seen wide-written on his face ! 
Diseases thicken 'round about him grim ; 
Plague, Pestilence, in fatal shadow stand. 
And 'hind him Desolation and Despair 
Spread their domain thro' Chaos down to Hell. 
A sight so fell that Darkness midnights 'round, 
Ghosts shriek, and Echo beUows out — ' Grim Death !' 

Milton's Satan has been by critics pronounced the sublimest 
character portrayed by the Poets. Let us bring these awful 
Heroes side by side, and look at them. Milton thus aescribea 
Satan: — 

Thus Satan, talking to his nearest mate, 

With head uplift the wave, and eyes 

That sparkling blazed ; his other parts besides 

Prone on the flood, extended long and large, 

Lay floating many a rood ; in bulk as huge 

As whom the fables name of monstrous size, 

Titanian or Earth-born that warr'd on Jove; 

Briareus, or Typhon, whom the den 

By ancient Tarsus held ; or that sea-beast — 

Leviathan, which God of all his works 

Created hugest that swim the ocean stream : 

Him, haply, slumbering on the Norway foam 

The pilot of some small night-founder'd skifi", 

Deeming some island, oft, as seamen tell, 

With fixed anchor in his scaly rind. 

Moors by his side under the lee, while night 

Invests the sea, and wish'd-for morn delays : 

So stretch'd out huge in length the arch-fiend lay. 



178 NOTICES OF 

This is Milton's description of Satan; now for Woodman- 
see's Grim Death: — 

The world's Goliaths vast and Sampsons strong 
To him compared contemptuous pigmies are, — 
More mighty than Xerxes five millions arm'd ! 
Towery his form! A promontory seem'd 
That frowns to scorn old Ocean's lashing Tides 
And storm-begotten children of the Deep, — 
Colossus shading half Oblivion ! 
His giant shoulders fearful in their strength 
Hung massy-huge and broad and round, and might 
At will upheave from fixed foundations firm 
The Apennines with all their weight of woods. 
His arm of strength, too, wield a thousand oaks, 
Or hurl to sky, or snap them all in twain 
As boy the cane that dangles at his side. 
His hand of bone in its fell grasp of death, 
Pluck Gibraltar from rock-rooted base, 
And fling afar to middle of the sea. 
His face of storm look'd devastation wide 
And age and ruin gnawed by Sin and Wo — 
Abaddon-deadly hollow of his jaw! 
Diseases-millioned, cavern'd in his grin. 
His eyes, out flaming anger's wasteful fires, 
Like baleful comets from their dreadful orbs 
Roird fearful wilds of emptiness remote. 
Upon his brow dread Vengeance hung and all 
The frowns of Night. His Hell-fill'd bosom's core 
Like Hecla burn'd with its infernal stores — 
Satanic-soul a-struggle to devour! 



THE CLOSING SCENE. 179 

A raging Ruin and all-smiting Curse, 
And vast Oblivion 'neath his fury shook. 

Nothing can be more natural than this description; each 
comparison and figure is familiar to every reader, and yet how 
terrific and sublime he has made Grim Death! To me, it has 
no equal. Woodmansee goes not to Mythology to idolatrize 
his Holy Harp like Milton has done, to drag from that heathen 
night of shadows, a fabled Typhon, that even the learned know 
very little about, and that little to be — all a lie! Our young 
Homer measures his hero by square-and-compass accuracy that 
boys can understand, while Milton measures his to show the 
world — he has read a little Latin and some Greek. But Mil- 
ton's great fault is, in comparing Satan to a — beast! A beast 
that surpasses all belief, and out- fables fable. What a ridic- 
ulous figure for him " whose form had not yet lost all its origi- 
nal brightness," to so stretch himself out like a " sea-beast " 
till a Pilot mistook him for "some island," and "anchor'd in 
his scaly rind — moored by his side all night — under the lee." 

But I must close. I will review ' The Closing Scene,' Book 
by Book, when the Lord gives me better health. No author 
thinks more like Homer than Woodmansee; all his descriptions 
breathe forth the true spirit of the Epic. 

Rev. H. S. SELLMAN. 



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